End of Despair: Innocence
by Manthor
Summary: The End of Despair,the End of War,The End of a Cycle.Sacrifices must be made,and power gained,if a never ending cycle of war and hatred is to end.Yet,only the mortals can change it,from within the cycle itself...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1- Things Change, For Better or Worse?**

**_Disclaimer_**: Teen Titans and associated is a copyright of DC Comics.

The Titans were exhausted, and quickly running out of ideas. Raven, Starfire, Robin, Beast Boy and Cyborg were being run into the ground, their pursuit of their latest adversary and any attempts to capture him with no end in sight. An enemy which could change into any material it contacted, taking its properties and structure.

Robin leaned against the wall, panting slightly. Already, daylight had passed and night was coming on, along with its associated risks and challenges. Their pursuit had led them from the original construction site all the way to the foundries at the edge of Jump City. They sorely needed Beast Boy to track their elusive prey as it was, him being the only one capable of following a scent in the first place. Yet, the constant movement and changes in scent were starting to confuse even him.

From what he could deduce, they were nanomachines. Highly cautious around areas of high electromagnetic interference such as power lines or substations, he had suspected they were a technological collective, especially after being able to collect a small sample in a test tube, which had promptly dissolved within minutes. Of course, not before he had managed to examine them beneath a microscope and witnessed the complex array of molecular transistors spread across the individual cells.

He had hurriedly fabricated a birdarang that gave off an electromagnetic pulse, with a significant amount of input from Cyborg. Initial simulations were hopeful, but one could never be fully sure.

From the shadows, the figure watched as they rallied yet again, despite their fatigue, despite their recent trials and combat against the Brotherhood. Interest lit up behind his eyes as he assessed them, observing their body language and movements. Trained well, they were sufficiently skilled in their tasks, though they could be better. Given his observations and the reports he had read about them, he was not truly surprised at their abilities, despite their youth.

Soon, he would introduce himself to them. Behind a reflective visor, a ghost of a grin passed over the face of the Black Tiger, as he followed from the shadows, leaping from silo to silo, the numerous bars and struts proving sufficient holds for him as he acrobatically swung and leapt from surface to surface, rolling, somersaulting and break falling with an ease gained through years of practice.

If any of the Titans had noticed him, they would only have seen a dark figure against the backdrop of night, moving like water through the air, poetry in motion.

Dropping to his knees, he tensed his muscles, hamstrings ready, before coiling the muscle and surrounding tissue together, tense and ready for release. Leaping from the deck of a silo, he landed on the ground, twenty metres below, letting his greaves absorb the impact, rolling with it before rising and swiftly following the creeping mass of nanomachines that were audible through his lenses, their faint temperature difference giving them away against the background.

The machines had one purpose by this point of time, and it was simple. Destroy their predator. It threatened their survival. Given their core programming, which was to reproduce and maintain the self, the collective, they sought energy and material to reproduce. Specifically, they needed carbon, iron and silicon, which was why they were in a foundry. The silicon found in the urban areas, while plentiful, was not in a raw form. Limited by this, they required the material unprocessed.

The evasion required had expended substantial amounts of energy in doing so, and it seemed logical that, by luring them to an isolated location, it could process the predator group down to basic elements for processing and add their material to the collective. Then, it could use the materials acquired as well as those available at the current location to fulfil the core programming. Reproduce and spread.

Though its coding was limited, as well as its circuitry, vulnerable to electromagnetic interference, it had evolved a semi-sentient animal cunning, and with this and a small amount of luck, had managed to move the Titans into a vulnerable position. Open to ambush, and with no way to escape. It would wait until they entered an enclosed corridor, before flooding it with itself and ripping them apart at the cellular level. It calculated that within a matter of 32 seconds, its task would be done, and it could continue its programming to the required parameters.

Cyborg and Beast Boy slowly stalked forward, alert to any sudden sound or movement. At least, Cyborg was. Beast Boy was strangely distracted, his focus wandering and unsure, acting subdued and reserved, which was highly abnormal for him. Already, several instances had passed where a lame joke would have sufficed to relieve tension, only to pass in silence.

Cyborg had not commented on it yet, but had a good idea of its cause. The girl who could be Terra. Leaving it unsaid, they walked on, Starfire and Raven in the rear, while Robin scouted ahead.

Turning a corner, they reached him, standing in an enclosed corridor, leading off further into the foundry complex. All of them were drained from the constant pursuit. They had not even had a chance to properly recover from the recent troubles from with the Brotherhood. Even the normally stoic Raven and Robin were starting to show the strain of the recent adventures.

Raven felt incredibly uneasy as she entered this part of the complex. Several times already, she had seen a figure in her peripheral vision, who always disappeared by the time she looked. Since they had entered the complex, she had felt as if eyes were boring into her back. She was not the only one, for Starfire had commented upon it as well. However, as she stepped into the corridor where the rest were, it reached a peak. By then, it was too late.

The walls came crashing in on them, as the corridor was suddenly sealed off on both ends and a clear liquid began to flow from the vents, thick and viscous yet running like water. Before she knew it, she and Starfire were up to their necks in it, unable to move, while the boys were similarly immobilised, Beast Boy unable to transform due to the confined space, while Cyborg began to short-circiut, arcs of electricity dancing across his body. It rose to cover their heads rapidly, entering through their nose and mouth, and then, a horrible burning began, as their bodies began to be slowly ripped apart at a cellular level. Through the liquid nanomachines, the screams of pain were muffled, ignored by an entity that knew neither mercy nor regret.

Violently cursing in a foul mixture of Persian, Cantonese and Hokkien, the Black Tiger ripped _Rukt_ from its sheath. Immediately, the temperature dropped, the air rapidly beginning to freeze, as a general gloom began to fill the direct area around him. Voices of the living and dead could be heard whispering in the farthest edges of ones hearing, before he plunged it into the metal, letting it carve its way through the thick sheets of steel that had dropped to trap the Titans within.

Stepping back as liquid nanomachines poured from the hole, he sheathed the blade. The instant it entered the scabbard, thin tendrils of blood escaped from the hilt, before sublimating into air, and the voices stopped.

Throwing an EMP grenade into the gloop, he leapt back as the nanomachines formed a humanoid figure that dissolved back into the medium as the grenade went off, set at a frequency the nanomachines were directly vulnerable to.

The formerly still liquid began to gush from the hole, bringing with it the Titans themselves, no worse for the wear, having been in there for a short time. Pulling them from the mess, he checked their pulses. Conscious and alive. Cyborg was somewhat battered, but being composed mostly of titanium alloy had protected him, and he was in the best shape of the five.

Leaning against the railing as they groggily rose, they warily eyed him. He could wait.

Just as the nanomachines began their work, and pain began to fill him, Robin suddenly felt the temperature drop, and he could hear his parents talking to him, of a suddenly vast multitude whispering constantly, and his will to live totally gone, as if he could no longer live, no longer be happy again. Just as suddenly, it lifted, and he woke up sputtering and spewing, breathing in deeply the night air, while around him, the rest of the Titans staggered, leaning against the wall or railing for support. However, the minute he saw the stranger, he was on his guard.

Dressed in black and leaning against the railing, with armour on his arms and legs, a reflective visor covering his face, he looked like a military special operations personnel. However, his body indicated no threat, totally relaxed as it was, while he leaned against the railing. The minute Robin could stand, he came over to him.

"My name's the Black Tiger. Welcome back to Jump City. I…..substituted you people for the past few weeks. Anyway, welcome back to the city." Reaching out a hand in greeting, Robin grudgingly took it, feeling hard bone and muscle beneath the grip of the glove."

The Black Tiger looked at them one by one, before bowing low to Raven herself. "Lady Raven, I am at your service. Now, seeing that we are done here, may I be permitted to introduce myself properly?"

Without waiting for further answer, he took off his helmet, revealing a face with grey eyes and brown, tanned skin, with a face reflecting Persian, Chinese, Indian, Maori and unknown heritages within. A youth no older than Raven. "My name is Aziz Yap Gang Hu, or just Aziz. And I would like to join your team." Direct and succint.

In a place between worlds, a figure watched the events as they unfolded. The Ulthaj, their task would be fulfilled, and they were all to play a part in it. Bemused, Rayaan Intan Daas, adopted son of the god Rugal, foster brother and travelling companion of the Black Tiger, simply watched.

OOC; Intended as part of an ongoing series, I'm looking for dedicated beta readers and a researcher-editor. Experience would be a plus.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After the events of the night before, Robin had felt it very necessary, if any, to do research on this new costumed hero, a seemingly independent one who wanted to join the Titans. Of course, the first order, no, the first demand was sleep. He didn't know it, but he was exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically. The cumulative stress of handling not only the Brotherhood of Evil, but the suppressed tension of having been in prolonged close proximity with Starfire and Raven, even as his hormones began to kick in even more, meant that he was exhausted.

Exhausted at controlling himself, of always having to subvert his baser desires, of having to always maintain his seeming calm as leader of the group, of having to struggle in his dreams between two very desirable females whom he lived with. But mostly, it was just plain, pure fatigue. To stop, regroup, relax and sleep. Yes. An undisturbed sleep. He would kill for such a night, a rarity. All of them would.

Dragging off his socks and clad only in a pair of cotton boxers, the windows left open to admit the sea breeze, Richard Grayson fell into a deep sleep, at peace with the world for the night.

SWSWSW

In her chambers, Raven scanned the tower with her mind, her empathy sensing the palpable fatigue of each and every individual, though Starfire and Cyborg were better off than when compared to the others of the team. The former because of her alien physiology, the latter because of his cybernetic body. Somehow, she could not meditate that night. It was a feeling of unease, ever since she had met him. Something about the one calling himself the Black Tiger disturbed her immensely. She could not pinpoint it, but she somehow sensed an aura of immense tragedy. When she had been trapped within the fluidic nanomachine, she had felt a profound depression so great that she had stopped struggling, stopped wanting to live. She knew that it had occurred when he had freed them with his sword.

The sword. That was the key in this entire scheme. Something about it stirred a sense of primeval terror within her. Her empathy had sensed a powerful negativity, a void of emptiness, for just a few moments, before he had sheathed it. She had also scanned him, sensed the calm neutrality he maintained in his emotions. Such control and discipline in them, and an extreme resistance to whatever force that sword exerted. However, beneath that all, she had swept across a deep well of passion and emotion beneath the thick wall of discipline, through a small chink in his wall of discipline that was swiftly closed to her. The emotion and cursing displayed earlier, she had heard it faintly, had been an anomaly.

The manner in which he referred to her as well was...intriguing. She had never met him before in her entire life, as far back as she could remember, had never met anyone who resembled him. Yet, the way he referred to her, as 'Lady Raven', as if she was some aristocrat worthy of respect, the respect and deference he made obvious in both body language and voice, showed that he had observed her, or at least knew something of her, and saw something worthy of respect.

His name; Aziz Yap Gang Hu. A name filled with meaning. Aziz; an Arab name meaning 'valued' as well as 'powerful'. Gang Hu was a name meaning "Unyielding Tiger". Yap was the family name. He was obviously not an American, especially given his name. A foreigner like her then, given that she had come from Azarath. His most distinguishing feature though, was his aura. After he had left, she had questioned the others, with Beast Boy vocalising it first. Danger. After they had recovered, it had retreated beneath a layer of calm, nothing indicated by him in the aftermath of their rescue. The air of a casual killer. Layer upon layer, and that one was thick with it. Restraint. It had dissappeared with the destruction of threat to their lives, replaced by a calm observation and courtesy.

A potential recruit, and one they would take their time in evaluating, especially after that affair with Terra. As she lay in bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, she remembered the grey eyes of his face, the old man's eyes filled with danger and something that hinted at a deep passion and sorrow beneath. Her last conscious thought: "Eyes that have seen atrocities and... death of innocence". She did not know it then, but she was right.

SWSWSW

On the rooftop of the warehouse, the Black Tiger scanned the area, listening in on the police and civil defence frequencies for any forms of trouble. It was a cool night, and he took off his helmet to enjoy the night air, letting it fill his senses. So different yet similar from where he had come. This place, this time, so different yet so similar to his home, where he was nothing but a memory, a soldier from a time of war. It was strange, being in a teenage body again, feeling the urges of youth as he had once felt them. Yet, he was ageless. He was mortal, that was in no doubt, but what he had experienced in the timeless planes beyond, they had changed him in a fundamental way. Memories filled his awareness, nostalgia flooding it briefly before he detached himself from it, turning it toward monitoring the frequencies. Biologically, he was an adolescent. Mentally, spiritually and chronologically, he was far beyond a mortal human in his experience of time.

For the protection of Lady Raven, his adoptive 'parent' had sent him here, telling him to cooperate with the other 'children' and detachments of 'himself', as he termed it. For lack of comprehension, his 'parent' was genderless, but did exhibit a tendency to express himself or 'emself' in either genderless or male term. In an odd sense, the other beings with him on this world could be considered siblings, but were all immortal, and of a rather different nature. Onraed and his 'daughters', more accurately being independent detachments, Sophia Mendes and Ang Lin Ying, rather prominent and rising business personalities, as well as Achyuta Singh Nair, a pioneering electronics and software engineer. They were the prime examples as well as the prime movers of the plan. There was a plan for this universe, simple and direct, though the manner of execution, discrete. As for Lady Raven, higher powers had ordained that she would have a part to play in this entire enterprise, and was to be protected. As to her companions, wild cards one and all. He would deal with them, if it ever came to that.

Putting his helmet back on, he heard an exchange on police frequencies, of a domestic disturbance. Turning to look back at the lights of the city, spread out before him, the Tiger leapt off the side of the building, rolling as he landed on the next one, making a final circuit before heading back home. In the neighbourhoods patrolled by the Black Tiger, few, if any criminals dared to tread. Only the foolhardy did so.

SWSWSW

Cyborg processed the information, using his own search filters and sophisticated artificial intelligence programs to look for any references to the Black Tiger. Newspaper articles and editorials from the weeks they had been away fighting the Brotherhood, as well as detailed police reports about incidents involving the Black Tiger poured into his system. While his organic brain slowly assimilated it, his electronic brain with its powerful neural network stored it away for further reference and analysis.

Looking at the time, he realised it was 4 am in the morning. Only then did he realise exactly how tired he was. Shutting down the computer, he set the alarm for 6 hours of rest before closing his eyes. Raven had confided in him some of what she had read of this new character, how she was disturbed by him. The reports seemed to confirm some truth to this. To all appearances and analysis by the city police and established psychologists, he was a vigilante with a growing reputation among the criminal underworld for his ruthlessness in dealing with crime. The people who had been saved by him had given consistent descriptions; a courteous individual, face obscured by a visor, wearing a uniform similar to Deathstroke, with the addition of flowing cloth at the thighs, and seemingly indestructible bracers and greaves, as well as an aura of ferocity and danger about him.

Consistently dangerous, he had no qualms with dealing with violent criminals, though outwardly showed signs of restraint towards those who did not resist. The few grainy videos of him that had been captured showed an individual possessing exceptional ability in the martial arts and gymnastics, as well as a proficient and lethal combatant and street fighter, from the obvious lack of effort on his part when it came to fighting individuals or small groups, choosing instead to disarm them with tear gas or police-issue rubber bullets. Most criminals who encountered him regretted it later, for they were often left with broken bones and bruises. It seemed that the Black Tiger followed a policy of proportionate response, but with a few exceptions.

Cyborg looked at a police video taken from a helicopter, as it tracked the Black Tigers movements over the rooftops. Reluctantly, Cyborg had to admit that he lived up to his namesake. The movements were fluid, swift, and beautiful, all the while being a danger.

Unplugging himself, he strolled to his tray, letting his body functions lapse into sleep.

SWSWSW

Garfield tossed in bed, muttering her name. Her image kept recurring in his mind. The girl who looked so much like her, it HAD to be her. Her rock figure was gone from the grotto where Slade had died. She had the same voice, the same eyes, the mole just beneath her nose, at the tip of her mouth, the freckles were the same, her eyes were the same. She even had the same gesture she had when she was nervous, a small tic at the corner of her mouth.

It just had to be her. So why did she deny it?

In a heart that had known loss, and in a mind that was being driven somewhat crazy by hormones, Garfield Logan was in turmoil over the first love of his life, and the other one, with eyes of violet that melted him, his secret desire, both warring for the focus of his mind. Fevered dreams filled his minds, as he uneasily sank into it, seduced by the slow dance of the sirens in his dreams.

SWSWSW

On a darkened screen, a menacing figure looked on as Slade paced in his old lair, newly refurbished and disguised as a warehouse. Wintergreen stood to the side, having been freed by Slade from his frozen cocoon in South America. The rest of the incompetent Brotherhood could be left to rot for all he cared, but not his butler and confidante. No matter his faults, Slade always rewarded loyalty, and did have a sense of honour, though one would be hard-pressed to perceive it. He followed a code, but a flexible one.

"My employer seeks your collaboration in certain enterprises" sneered the figure from across the screen, in a tone filled with arrogance and disdain. "Certain…individuals within your city are of great interest to us. Though why he would want to work with you is questionable, given your previous record of failures with regard to this…unruly group of teenage hooligans. Why, even…" before he was abruptly cut off, blood coating the screen as his head rolled away from view, his body dragged off-screen by unseen hands.

Deathstroke stared indifferently, while Wintergreen winced. Slowly, a new face came on, with eyes like pits from hell. A brute of a man, with glittering intelligence and slabs of muscle visible beneath a business suit, a high widow's peak of hair and bronze skin, obviously of Mediterranean descent. Speaking with a clipped British accent, with subtle menacing undertones, he introduced himself.

"Forgive me for that inconvenience. My name is Ascanio Rosa. My former partner was prone to too much talk. We have a business proposition. We deal in narcotics and weapons in the underground economy, or the 'black market' as most people term it. We would like to operate in Jump City, arm the crime families, given the recent unrest and civil war among them. There is profit to be made, and intriguing individuals to be found at work there. Since you understand the local region, we find it profitable to seek a facilitator like you. Would you accept?"

Slade silently pondered this, staring at the screen, before uttering a single word. "Yes."

"Then it is decided. Tomorrow, our contact and 3 bodyguards will meet you. Be in civilian clothing, at Warehouse 7, East Docks. The time will be at approximately 8 pm." With that, the screen blinked off, the transmission cut.

Slade quietly pondered the conversation. His new partners were reclusive and rather mysterious, but fabulously wealthy. Going by the label of the Society of Ahriman, they were an organisation that was immensely wealthy, wielded enormous clout due to their wealth and rivalled the League of Assassins in secrecy; if the League of Assassins was a formidable opponent, the Society of Ahriman was a master of the art. They only contacted you when they wanted to, and were almost impossible to find. Similarly, they had only arisen within the last 5 years, making their meteoric rise even more mysterious. Rather like the fabled Illuminati of Christian myth, they had a vast reach and tremendous political and financial wealth at their disposal. Conservative estimate by some underground financiers had put their economic wealth in assets and cash at a value of 1.35 trillion euros, though what their assets were, he did not know. Most attempts to trace them ended in failure, as well as the death of any hired agent in mysterious accidents.

"_So, they wish to start a branch here in Jump City. Interesting" _were the private thoughts that flowed through his mind, as well as a small sense of unease. On many levels, the murder of that man had been a rather obvious message. They did not tolerate the slightest, most indirect insinuation of incompetence against their superiors. A message made plain by the offhand murder of their first envoy. An indicator of extreme arrogance. If anything, this would be an interesting venture, as well as a way of gaining essential funds. He had to dip into his active funds more than normal, and the level of money in the account was _uncomfortable_, to say the least.

SWSWSW

Ascanio watched as the body was carried away, while androids efficiently and methodically cleaned up the mess. Harris was a waste of manpower, and his death had been planned from the beginning. An act designed to keep Deathstroke off balance and unsure of the Society and its methods. As any good servant, criticism and feedback, done constructively, contributed to the efficient management of the Society. It simply served as an effective means to orchestrate a death like this, to keep potential enemies off balance.

There was no such thing as friends in this world, only neutral parties with mutual interests or enemies. Nothing else mattered except power and wealth. As far as he was concerned, that was it to him. Coming from a poor background, he had worked for the Bernito Mafia as an enforcer, rising through the ranks from a mere foot soldier to a trusted bodyguard of the Don. That is, until the Don was assassinated by a sniper's bullet, causing a gang war to erupt. The war had swiftly settled after the entry of the League of Ahriman, which had integrated the two opposing families into its operations.

His actions had distinguished him, his marksmanship and tactical acumen making him a proficient field commander on par with a junior military officer of the Italian family, a natural talent combined with his ability to lead people, as well as intimidate and coerce through use of his tremendous physical strength, a natural talent trained and channelled into strength training and boxing. After the absorption, he had caught the attention of higher command for his talent at assassination, having killed 3 US DEA Agents and 32 Colombian cartel runners rather inventively, either by ropes, poison, bullets, or the laws of physics.

Now, he was a bodyguard to The Lord Imperial of the Society, _Derman Ugorj._ The man who had given him wealth and power beyond his wildest dreams. Now, he would rise even higher, assigned to an American operation. New markets, new wealth.

The though then came unbidden into his mind; "_Money is not the root of evil, but the desire for it is"._ He smiled, remembering the verses from his catechism class as a child. Yes, desire and greed. And tonight, he desired something…_carnal_. Yes, he would pay a visit to the decadent brothels of the Society, where flesh was traded for coin. Greed, in a way, was good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The dream was a vivid one, filled with languid shapes and slowness, muted lighting and soft, discoloured tones. Slowly, the two of them engaged in coitus, a slow rhythm, as their hearts synchronised together. Beating slowly were their hearts, their breathing ragged and mismatched.

Yet, something was wrong. He opened his eyes, and stared into dark lavender eyes…

SWSWSW

Robin awoke with a start, sweat dripping from his every pore despite the cool air blowing from the window. His breath was ragged, but he knew exactly what he had dreamt. Better not to dwell on it.

With a mental shrug, he cast off the remnants of the dream. Thinking about it and analysing it made him uneasy, but he knew its source. Simply lust. Lust was an enemy, and one that could be dealt with through force of will and a _cold_ shower. Though a cold shower with Starfire or Raven...

Getting up, he changed into a pair of thin cotton-polyester running trunks, with small thigh slits in the side for freedom of movement. Calmly and slowly, he entered the gym, wrapping his palms with the thick cotton wraps he usually used. He closed his eyes, exhaling and inhaling deeply, forcing air into his lungs, before hopping on the spot, launching from the balls of his feet. Warm up the muscles, stretch them, _then_ you start. Bruce had always emphasised a good warm up first thing in the morning.

Staring at the heavy bag before him, body glistening with perspiration from the warm up, Robin dropped to the floor, beginning the sequence. With a feline grace, he launched himself from his right foot, his jumping knee strike impacting the bag with tremendous power, before shifting to his next knee, prepared to complete the next 200 strikes in sequence. Nothing could clear your mind better than the slap of wet flesh against leather. Starfire in leather. Briefly, a mental picture filled his mind, before he suppressed it, yelling in anger as he struck the bag again.

SWSWSW

With a sharply indrawn breath, Aziz arose from his mattress, situated on the floor. His room was cool, a breeze blowing into it. Below, the sound of laughter and vehicles arose from the waterfront, where he lived, on top of a nightclub. Dressed in light cotton trunks, he let the sea breeze caress him, the tang of salt rich in the air.

For weeks now, ever since he had come to this universe, that dream haunted him. It came and went, as did with most dreams, but this was different. Other dreams passed, gone with the current of his mind. This one was a waking dream, always the same, more a memory than anything else. He glanced at the clock, noticing the time as 5.30 am. Good, a decent 4 hours of sleep.

Languidly stretching sleep from his muscles, he slipped into a lotus position. Sleep inertia rapidly slipped from him, as he consciously tensed and relaxed flesh and sinew in rhythmic patterns, from head to toe. Breathing through his nose, he aligned and attuned his nervous systems, the cerebrospinal and autonomic systems, falling into a conscious trance, slowly trawling through the functions of his body. All the muscles, nerves, gland and other physiological functions were in order. All working in perfect synchronization, an order imposed upon them by will of the mind. Standing swiftly, he tweaked his internal biochemistry, letting his blood stream with adrenaline, as he shifted into rapid gear, changing into his working attire. Mentat discipline steeled his mind, filtering through the nodes of his mind, knowledge and experience melding with intuition.

Leaving the room, clad in black jeans and a white shirt, he prepared toast while leafing through reports prepared by Kassim. Local informants had spoken of Deathstroke increasing his usual smuggling operations as well as news of impending arms and narcotics shipments into the city. As usual, the federal authorities were monitoring the situation, waiting for evidence they would never find. A note about the docks caught his eye. Scanning it, he noticed the reports of increased smuggling activity and a transfer of funds to undisclosed bank accounts of certain customs officials. A footnote caught his eye, directing his attention to Dock 7, where a 'suspicious' container was marked by him. Listed as carrying only frozen pork, why was it marked as fragile and why had it not gone through FDA checks? Such an open concealment, it would be marked as merely an overlooked shipment, mislabeled, and nothing more. It was exactly the opposite.

A slight upturn of lips was his only reaction. Tonight, the Black Tiger hunted. Of course, he would pay a visit to the Titans first. He was quite sure that Robin would be interested. As for his joining, well, perhaps that would be considered. No doubt, they had done their work. If anything was certain, the Titan Tower would be added to his nightly patrol route from now onward. Lady Ravens protection was his priority.

SWSWSW

Starfire woke up to find Silkie licking her awake. As adorable as it was, it was still not pleasant by any standards to find what was essentially a large maggot licking your face and sliming it in the process.

"Please Silkie, stop licking me!"

Her earnest request was ignored, and with a tenderness mixed with no small annoyance, she deftly picked him off her face and deposited him in his box, which she had replaced several times so far, given that he devoured it on a weekly basis. Slowly, she was beginning to understand the culture of her adopted home for now, as well as being more confident in dealing with the intricacies of life in this strange but increasingly familiar world.

Leaping into a standing position, she stood straight, changing into her usual uniform from night clothes before heading out. Her dreams had been nothing if not pleasant. More specifically, it involved her 'boy'. Tamaranean women, if anything, were noted for a certain attachment to their males.

Her thoughts turned to the events of the past week. It had been unnerving, to have been so close to death after the encounter with the 'thing' that they had codenamed, _Cellburst_. She had felt herself pulled to the very verge of death, heard the voices of her loved ones, of her dead parents. Slight shudders passed up her body. She had confided in Raven, only to have Raven acknowledge the same to her, had confided in Robin and the others, who had maintained a stony silence. Of the rest, only Raven had been forthcoming with her. The boys, despite the experience, refused to reflect further on it. It was too unnerving, and if they admitted to it, would have viewed such an admission as weakness, which their male ego wouldn't allow.

However, it was Ravens revelation that made her wary of this Black Tiger. It was the sword he used that had caused them to experience it, to feel as if their very soul were being torn into a vacuum of void, where no happiness, no passion, no emotion could exist. Her will to even live had been simply torn from her, her will to breather, to even eat, all of it, _gone_. This new one, she was wary of him.

The team dynamic had also been affected as well. Beast Boy was _not_ Beast Boy. He had the same face, the same voice, the same skin, but there was an assertiveness quality, a desperation and forcefulness that had not been there before. Not since he had seen Terra's 'doppelganger'. If anything, too many things were happening all at once, too much for her liking. Her training under the Warlords of Okraa had taught her to always assume the worst of an enemy, to prepare for as many contingencies as possible. As of then, she was already planning what to say to Robin. He would listen to her concerns, her plans. She would make him listen. Too many suspicious happenings, all tied together.

Flying down the corridor, she flew past the gym, when she heard the grunts and muted growls coming from within. Doubling back and peeking in, she looked upon the scene and found it pleasing. Without thinking, she stuck her tongue out and licked her lips. To her, he looked positively _delicious_.

Her 'boy', clad only in trunks, executed yet another vicious kick into the kick, already mauled from the vicious beatings of the past hour. A sheen of sweat shone off his body, and Starfire drank in the scene covertly, enjoying the view for the next few minutes as he moved into the cool down sequence of his exercises. As he finished, she left, heading to prepare herself a breakfast of mustard and toast. If anything, she felt positively _perky_.

SWSWSW

Cyborg rose up, his batteries recharged and his human mind refreshed, its physiological needs fulfilled. It was a new day, which meant more work to be done. The first thing to do was to take notes on the remains of the Cellburst they had recovered. Being one of their more challenging opponents, if not for external intervention, they would probably have died last night.

The only things that really worried him right now were Beast Boy and Robin. For Beast Boy, it was due to his current obsession with this doppelganger, and Robin because of the recent reappearance of Slade. Or so it seemed, for now.

When Robin had received the information the night before, he had merely shrugged before heading off to bed. All of them had been _exhausted_, with Robin the most. If anything, he worked the hardest of all of them, despite not having any supernatural or metahuman abilities, or even any technological enhancements or otherwise to his body, just sheer mental ability, leadership, stamina, acrobatic and martial ability. And they were enough, most of the time. While he hadn't shown it, the entire episode involving the Brotherhood of Evil had drained him. Here had been an opponent that was just as intelligent, and just as driven to destroy them, more than any foe so far. They had been within a hair width of defeat, and would have lost if not for Beast Boy pulling through, along with Starfires surprise attack.

Walking to the kitchen, his organic stomach rumbled in anticipation of the breakfast before him. Just then, the proximity alarm began to blare. A watercraft had entered the waters around Titan Tower. Quickly linking to the external camera units, he noticed a sleek, streamlined jet ski propelling itself towards the island with a single passenger. Zooming in, he noticed the occupant.

The Black Tiger.

SWSWSW

Looking straight into the camera, Aziz waited for the thick steel blast doors to open. The Titans Tower was an example of solid, high-quality engineering, though not the best he had seen. Solid titanium alloy and steel armour plate layered the external surface, while a small gravel path circled the island, its main use of running being obvious.

As the door opened, he stepped into the tower, stalking forward with confidence. With calm disinterest, he noted the cameras that tracked him, noticing the faint floor vibrations and movement that indicated the presence of several hidden panels and side passages, secured behind blast doors. The panels were probably concealing weapons. As well, he seemed to be taking a rather long route in, to their main hall. Good, they were cautious with their guests.

Climbing up a staircase, he noticed the recessed sentry turrets covering the entire area. Yes, these were good, but a determined attacker could still force their way into the structure. In his opinion, their defenses were too passive. Still, they had protected Lady Raven until now, they would do. She was foremost.

Applying his intuition and analytical skills to the plan, he had projected a definite goal and outcome, but had not factored in Lady Raven. She was a variable, but the overall goal, he was confident of. It was direct; to ensure a thread of continuity in the sphere of humanity, ensure their survival beyond their current state of development into an equilibrium state, where they could further themselves beyond the physical realm and evolve further. As for Lady Raven's purpose, he could remotely guess, but lacked enough relevant data for now to get a clear idea of their goals involving her.

Entering into the main hall, he took in the living area and kitchen, as well as the large couch in the centre of the living room, in front of the large view screen. From the room, one had a full view of the downtown cityscape, as well as the main financial district. Chinese and Japanese signs could be seen dotting the landscape, a feature due to the significant populations within the city, along with the Vietnamese and Hispanic populations. Significant minorities that added a distinct flair to the city's nightlife, along with the normal American populations of African-descent and European-descent.

Starfire noticed him and greeted him in friendship, but he noted her aloofnes. Perhaps he shouldn't have used Rukt. He had panicked that day, given the threat to Lady Raven, behaviour uncharacteristic of him. He would have to allay their fears and earn their trust, essential for his own agenda.

"Koriand'r, Princess Royal of Tamaran. I am pleased to meet you in more… friendly conditions. As for my presence here, I present to you…"

Starfire blinked once, only to find a rose flower held between his hands, where none had been before. Before she could blink, once more, she found herself presented with a steaming cup of Starbucks mocha and a chocolate brownie coated with mustard. Thick, rich, creamy mustard. In that instant, she decided that perhaps this new person wasn't as bad as she thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Enter the Tiger**

Sophia Perennis Mendes sat at her office. As CEO of Onraed Industries and President of Mendes Investment Foundation, as well as Director-General and founder of Mendes Defence Decisions, she was a powerful woman, in the economic and political sense of the world. She had possessed a childhood of sorts, growing up multiple times in different countries through several childhoods, over a span of centuries, in order that she learn adaptability and the skills of a social chameleon, as well as independence and mental toughness. She was not human at all, far from it. But she was not totally without human tendencies or perceptions.

She stared hard at the genetic indices, noting Raven's place within them, as well as her adopted brother's. The Black Tiger, her brother. The main line and highest points of success flowed from Raven. Her children would possess astounding potential. Still, she would not inform her brother of his place in the plans and of her own desires, to leave her own genetic legacy upon it. Those were secrets, for now. As it was, revelations regarding the Wayne and Grayson genetic lines had just occurred to her, and had been recently added. Countless branches flowed from a main line, with the fulcrum of it listed as Raven Roth, while countless generations saw possible mingling among cousins, demi-cousins, half-siblings, relatives any number of times removed, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, the mongrel strength of outsiders and their wild talent, the countless dominant traits mixed in through a planned course of mutation, engineering, grafting and selection. All of it culminated in a pinnacle, thousands of generations from now, in a single ultimate being.

Yet, when adding her brother's genetics to the plan, when adding even Rayaan's genetics to it, it shortened the entire process, bringing in unknown elements. The wild talent and mongrel strength represented by Aziz Yap Gang Hu, the divine, omnipotent will and raw, primal power manifested in the godly but cursed blood of Rayaan Intan Das, the half-demon taint but awe inspiring psionic and magical potential presented by Raven Roth. These were gods playing with evolution, giving her a plan. She knew the reason, but chose to accelerate it. She knew the risk. Instead of thousands of generations, it would be hundreds, perhaps even less than a hundred with her most optimistic projections. Already, she had appended her own plans to the main one, had sent them back concealed and encrypted to the Planes of Al-Ilham. She was playing a dangerous game. Her own mental computations, combined with prescience, had projected a stage where it would escape control of everyone involved, even the Elder Gods of the Omniverse, Halgur and Khallusk. Only a more powerful being could intervene then, which left the Ulthaj, whom refused to intervene, if ever, and the Supreme Omniversal Being, their reactions unknowable.

Her brother would disapprove. A quasi-Neitzschean individual was how he would describe her. Despite the dangers associated with his own duty, he would see this as a risk of partial vanity. There were lines he generally limited himself to, and this risk was one. She was making her own changes to the genetic indices, her own findings and projections adding to it, the list of names growing, aiming to culminate in an ultimate being faster than most dared to risk. Onraed would approve, for she was Onraed, at least a part of her was, her origin as his detachment non-withstanding. Ang Yin Ling and Achyuta Singh Nair, her siblings, were fully biological beings, though enhanced through bio-nanotech cybernetics at a foetal stage and at the genetic level.

She turned her eyes toward the screen at her desk corner, noticing the image upon it. Anastasiya "Anya" Iosifovna Khruschev, her brothers ward. A vivacious 11 year old, she was enjoying herself listening to what passed for music for the younger generation, listening to 'pop' and 'hard rock'. In her opinion, it was rubbish. The first was sold through people with little talent and using raw sex appeal, the other was people merely screaming with loud music accompanying them. Young Anya would only be able to enjoy it for another hour though, before her classical music lessons, followed by Krav Maga training from Sophia's bodyguards. A provision made by Aziz, who wanted his ward not only to be independent, but to be mentally strong as well, as well as skilled enough to defend herself. Sophia smiled slightly. Her brother's ward was practically his daughter, whether he chose to accept it or not. She already called him her father behind his back, while he treated her like a daughter, though not overtly.

Aziz had rescued her from a Russian brothel in the Kamchatka region, where underage girls were used as sex slaves by local mafia enforcers, corrupt police and lonely soldiers from a nearby missile base, a relic of the Cold War. It was in the initial stages, when they were still assessing key regions of this world, its people and its cultures, seeing how the plan could be implemented and executed.

SWSWSW

Sophia saw nothing special in these people. They were identical but dissimilar to other humans she had seen so far in the two hundred universes she had visited, out of the infinite and limitless, eternal entirety of the Omniverse, in all the improbabilities, probabilities, possibilities and impossibilities that existed, from galaxies the size of sand grains, to universes the size of her palm, membranes of colour and energies beyond sapient ken. Then she had found out, by accident, why. Rugal and Onraed had finally told her of the magnitude of the plan, of the command of the Ulthaj, when she had approached them with her knowledge, gleaned from motes of information most would have dismissed tenfold. The Ulthaj, she would always remember, the majesty and omnipotent will eclipsing that of even the Supreme Omniversal Being, exposed for a mote in time as it left, its nature and origin as unknowable to her as its motivations. With entities of such power supporting her task, she knew it had to be a critical task. And for this, she felt honoured to bear it, and saddened, for the burden she knew the one called Raven Roth, above all else, was called on to bear. Yet her discovery was not without mystery. The Ulthaj could create such a being. Why trust in the dance of genetics, when the Ulthaj could create such an ultimate being with less than a thought? She couldn't know. That was something beyond her.

She had her own burden, given the state this world was in. It was obvious in how the nation with the greatest economic and military clout operated, its culture lacking in foresight, its leaders ridiculously short-sighted. They had already triggered wars in a crucial energy providing region of the world, encouraged a culture that was dynamic yet possessing a cultural deficit, fixated by the social structure of races. For the United States of America, she found it a pity. China and India, emergent entities possessing power to challenge such short-sighted political rule with their own foresight and pragmatism borne of long cultural adaptation and survival, were eager rivals, while Russia was a giant that had stumbled but would eventually regain is place, as was Japan, Indonesia, South Africa and Brazil. They would eventually rise, if things went as forecast. They had potential, and they always would, unless prodded and guided in the right direction.

The cycles of war, of poverty and strife, they had to be broken and replaced with cycles of virtue, for the very survival of this world. They had wasted much of it as it was, with grotesque examples of human leadership obvious in North Korea, Iraq, Syria, Sudan, and to a lesser extent, China and Myanmar. Such wasted potential, with global institutions that did not serve their purpose as well as they could. The United Nations was a bureaucratic nightmare, from its founding days till now, but it was still the best this world could hope for. Her agents were infiltrating the structure of governments and organisations legitimate or otherwise worldwide. She already had immense economic clout, and would seek global economic influence, as well as political control. She would provide the guidance, and the protection, and through her, Onraed as well.

SWSWSW

Going back to her original thoughts, she remembered the mute girl that Aziz had deposited in their hotel room 3 years ago, dressed in rags and shivering with terror. Aziz had departed, only saying that he would mete out his justice to the ones responsible, along with Kassim. During that time, Sophia had comforted the poor girl, holding her and rocking her into a deep slumber. She had refused to speak or eat, only moving into action when Aziz had returned, throwing herself at him and hugging him tightly. Initially, she had responded only to 3 people, Kassim, Aziz and herself. Whenever she met anyone new, she would quickly hide behind Aziz, staring at them with terrified eyes, clutching onto his legs like her life depended on it. Her first meal with them was an ordeal for her, as she took her food into a corner and cringed at the slightest raised voice, only responding to Aziz's soft tones or to Sophia.

Sophia had taken her and given her a bath, sponging off the dried blood, grimacing at the welts across her body, indications of lashing by belt, as well as the scalding across her neck and pelvic region. Her genitals were…. Sophia recoiled slightly at the memory. No girl should go through what she had. They had used heated steel bars on her. That night, they learned the hard way that she could not sleep alone, for the minute they closed the door, she became hysterical, wailing and scratching until her fingers bled. She had calmed down when Sophia had entered, but fell asleep only when Aziz had sat by the side of Sophia's bed, his presence a security blanket for her.

Sophia later learned what had happened to the traffickers and clients present when the Black Tiger had stormed the brothel. Every one of them was dead, victim to either gunshot, blood loss from the amputation of their penis and testicles, or flayed alive, their skin hanging from rafters while their bodies writhed in agony on the floor, salt rubbed onto their bleeding forms. A brothel enforcer, responsible for 'breaking in' the girls had every major artery and vein cut, along with every major tendon and ligament, as well as his vocal cords. The worst treatment had been reserved for the brothel owner himself. Crucified upside down, flayed alive, hung by his testicles from the ceiling with his charred penis inserted into his mouth, his eyelids excised and tongue cut out. . Police responding to the reports were reluctant to enter, and the case had been dismissed, given the lack of suspects, the fact that all the victims had been violent criminals wanted by police, and that Sophia had used political influence to have the case dismissed.

She had been horrified, but later learned that it had been mostly the work of the Black Tiger himself, her brother. Kassim had only interrogated them, before leaving, the carnage almost too much for him. She knew, as well as did the others, her brother's nature.

Calm disinterest was a true enough quality, but only of that persona. A powerful core of compassion, with a hardened veneer of cruelty, was the simplest way to describe him. Below his picture, scrawled in minute writing, was Sophia's more complete description of him. William Blake's poem, _The Tyger_.

Nothing described him more accurately than that. While a tiger was a beautiful, graceful creature, it was dangerous, fierce and vicious and capable of great destruction, without a sense of mercy. This was the man charged with defending the most important person in their plans. Raven.

SWSWSW

In the Titans Tower, things were proceeding rather smoothly. Aziz had managed to gain much enthusiasm from Starfire with his repertoire of magic tricks, having been self-trained as an amateur street magician, with a wide repertoire of card and coin tricks, as well as being skilled at 'sleight of hand', or prestidigitation. Of course, a chocolate brownie covered in mustard had accelerated the process greatly, and earned him Starfire's mark of acceptance.

He observed her closely, her exuberance and happiness nearly causing him to smile. She was still so young and innocent, in her own way. His lips turned upward slightly, before he set them back to the neutral face he adopted as a habit. She was a beautiful young female, and would definitely attract the attention of any hot-blooded male, Tamaranean or Human.

Just then, Robin came into the room, in uniform, as always. His eyes widened, before narrowing. Him. What was he doing here? He still remembered that night

Aziz turned to face the leader of the Titans, noticing the narrow eyes, the pores on his face, the pheromones he emitted, keying his senses to the physical minutiae of the person before him. A low-level threat, quick glances to Starfire, heightened aggression visible in the body language. His pheromones spoke of recent physical activity, the residue of sweat mixing with that of soap and shampoo, low undertones of leather and wood smoke adding to his scent. He felt threatened, seeing a mysterious figure here, in his home, near to the woman he had subconsciously claimed as his own, whether he liked it or not. It was visible in his body language gesture clusters and the flickers of his eyes, his eye muscles relaxing once Aziz stepped back from Starfire.

"Richard John Grayson, alias Robin, a pleasure to meet you." The message was clear. Aziz wanted Robin to know that he knew his background, knew enough about him to deduce his identity, and by extension, knew who Batman was. It wasn't very hard, but required some good research and logical analysis. He had deduced it in 3 hours, after compiling the appropriate data. The response that met him was stone silence.

"Breakfast?" was the next uttered word from Aziz, still calmly observing Robin.

Further silence before a curt, neutral reply; "What are you doing here?"

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Starfire sensed the hostile air radiating from Robin, as well as the rather impolite treatment of their guest, who had incidentally saved them from certain death as well. She knew that all of them had gone through a traumatic experience that night, but why was he so hostile to Aziz? Hadn't he trusted them enough to take off his mask in front of them directly after their encounter?

His lack of _that_ sword had been a reassurance to her, though he carried what seemed to be a staff on his hip, and he had called Robin by his proper name, as a show of what he knew. All his actions had been friendly, since he had entered their home, and he radiated some warmth and friendliness, a large change from the previous night.

Though his purpose in coming here, he hadn't yet stated.

Looking pointedly at Robin, she excused herself and dragged a resisting Robin into a side corridor where she could have a very pointed talk with him. One did not treat a guest with such disrespect when the guest had done nothing in that way, especially one who had saved their lives, no matter how unnerving it had been. Further still, when one brought breakfast to share with them, it showed good intentions. He had been nothing but polite to her, entertaining her with his skills, while Robin had been hostile from the outset, when he had no reason to be.

Coming to a stop in front of the toilet, she turned around to meet him face to face.

"Robin, explain yourself, now. For the past week, since the Brotherhood was defeated, you've been acting strangely". With hands on her hip, she waited.

SWSWSW

Robin looked at her and her uncharacteristic annoyance at him. He would treat that _person_ however he wished. He was not welcomed by Robin. Who had the gall to just come and ask to join the Titans. You were selected, you did not ask. The Titans were a force dedicated to enforcement of the law, protection of the innocent and defending justice. To be a part of it, you had to have the drive and the ability to contribute. Anyone asking to join was suspect in their motivations until they proved otherwise. If Robin had inherited one thing from the Bat, it was a healthy sense of paranoia. While not as paranoid as to prepare contingencies for dealing with betrayal by Superman, he was paranoid enough.

He still remembered the experience, how he had to relive his parent's death over and over, for what felt like an eternity. He had to relive each and every single moment, remembering his parent's bodies, the look in his mother's eyes. His father's body lying in the dust, neck twisted at an awkward angle. Each and every detail the same as before. In perfect detail, his prefect private hell

The nightmare where Alfred and Bruce died, over and over again, as the Joker laughed in the background, while he could do nothing but scream in rage.

The nightmare where the Titans had died, where all of them stared at him accusingly, always asking the same question: _Why did you fail us?_

As he had regained consciousness, when Aziz had kept the sword and his life returned, his aunt, uncle and parents had been calling to him that night, telling to live, to resist whatever power compelled him to die.

He had to relive his worst nightmares in that brief instant before he came back, as the power of the blade had reached its peak, before it had been sealed away.

For this reason, and no other, he was wary of Aziz. He may have saved them, but the experience had brought all trauma to the fore. Cyborg and Beast Boy had fared well, as they did not have such painful memories or experiences, had resolved their issues. They did not have such pressure applied on them to perform, no great legacy to live up to. They hadn't been raised by the Batman, or adopted by Bruce Wayne. They had the privilege of having something of a normal childhood, at least Cyborg did. Beast Boy had a family, and adventuring was his life. Starfire, no matter what people said about her, was incredibly tough mentally, when called to it, while Raven had her powers to shield her, though she had her own darkness.

All he had were his skills and his endurance, and they had been pulled to the stretching point. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally, he had been drained. Even now, he had trouble keeping his fraying temper under control. All he needed were a few quiet days, and he would be fine.

Robin inhaled deeply as he looked at Starfire. Slowly, he though out his words before stating them.

"Star, I'm sorry for the how I behaved earlier. I'm just…drained. I'm exhausted Star. I'm tired and really, I just can't take it now. I'll go apologise to him. After last night, I'm just a bit…. Off. I'll talk to him. Seriously, I'll deal with it. Just let me be for now."

Turning, he walked back to the kitchen where Cyborg and Beast Boy, whom they occasionally referred to as Garf now, were sitting and enjoying their mochas. It seemed Aziz had been considerate enough to bring them their breakfast. Personally, Aziz found it beneficial, committing diplomacy through exchanges of food and over meals. It let people bond, in a relaxed manner, due to the communal sharing of food.

Aziz looked dispassionately at Robin, waiting for a response. He did not feel obliged to try again, given his earlier attempt. While not angered by the unnecessary hostility shown at him, he felt that it was up to Robin to make the first move. He was patient.

"I'm sorry for the rudeness earlier. I apologise. I was…uncomfortable."

Robin silently pondered the revelation, hiding the shock that he felt. While his teammates had inevitably discovered his secret identity, he revealed it to few people outside his immediate circle of familiars. The Black Tiger had wanted to send him a message. The content was enough, but his tone was neutral. No threat, but he knew enough. And Robin had received the message loud and clear.

SWSWSW

Aziz nodded, accepting it for what it was. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing to forgive or forget. It was an exchange from a tired individual, wary of someone new in his home. Already, he had managed to gain a sympathiser of sorts within the Titans, given the way Starfire had dragged Robin off and treated him. Though why he was hostile towards him, Aziz could suspect.

_Rukt_ had several effects upon a person. The main one was leeching away and removing the will to live, the will to fight, inducing profound depression in a person. Extended exposure drew away their soul and brought them to the brink of death. Actual contact with the blade sent them into the afterlife, to the very shores of death of that universe, though it could also send people to the omniversal afterlife for judgement or other events. It could also cause the sentient entity to suffer pain and misery, to relive nightmares or traumatic memories. It rended apart the very fabric that composed the multiverse. A material that was invulnerable or indestructible in one universe could be cut through by Rukt, even one phase-shifted out of time and reality.

Rukt was a blade that had not been mastered, and only a bare few could wield it. Those whom the blade allowed itself to be wielded by, and those who compelled the blade to obey, by their nature and their force of will. Aziz was both. It was both a terrible gift and a blessed burden, for as much as it could give death, it also gave justice, for the Pearl of the Ulthaj upon it.

As Robin turned his back, Raven entered the room. The change it engendered in Aziz was instant. Removing his helmet and genuflecting to her in one fluid movement, he stayed there. "Good morning Lady Raven. I apologise for an intrusion upon your home, but duty required it". The respect in his tone was obvious to everyone present. Standing swiftly, he bowed again before moving toward her side, taking a position to her rear.

SWSWSW

Cyborg and Beast Boy looked at the spectacle and tried hard to hide any form of laughter at the expression of pure bafflement upon Raven's face. Emotionless, aloof Raven, was blushing with both embarrassment and confusion. Starfire was trying hard but failing, giggles escaping her covered face. The only ones with straight faces were Aziz and Robin.

"Thank….thank you Black Tiger" was the only response that came to her mind. She truly was embarrassed. Why should anyone treat her like this, unless they were some deranged cultist who worshiped Trigon? Yet, she knew enough of her father that she was confident that Aziz didn't serve him. Deceit was not a skill valued by her father' servants who preferred more…direct methods. It was the respect and reverence that embarrassed her. It was not condescending at all, and utterly genuine.

"Lady Raven, please call me Aziz" was Aziz's reply. Raven swiftly restored her expression to the usual poker face, gaining back a measure of dignity and self-control, though a red tinge still persisted on her face.

"What's your business here Aziz?"

"Lady Raven, I came to provide information regarding drug shipments into the city. Given your team, I though you would be interested. Also, I have some leads regarding a foe of yours. Deathstroke aka Wilson Slade".

He withdrew a manila envelope from a hip pocket, before placing it on a table. Aziz did not fail to notice the visible tensing on Beast Boy's, Robin's and Raven's faces, the frowns tightening their faces. Obviously, they had personal issues with the man. Aziz only knew of their previous encounters with the man, but didn't know of any personal vendetta's that the different members had. If he presented a threat to Raven, it would be dealt with, lethally.

Cyborg flipped through the documents, his cybernetic eye recording them for later perusal. Looking straight at Robin, he nodded. The information was extensive, and detailed. Whatever was happening involved a transport coming in from Italy, among its passengers a notorious assassin. Involvement of the Ahriman Society was also included. It looked to be at least 11 metric tons of cocaine, valued at 300 million dollars.

"Thank for the info. We'll handle it tonight."

"You mean _we'll_ handle it tonight." The Black Tiger placed his helmet back, swiftly correcting him. "Where Lady Raven goes, I go." Cyborg glanced at Robin, reading the displeasure on his face. They did not need someone tagging along whom they didn't even know, especially someone that Robin obviously disliked and distrusted. While Cyborg did not exactly trust him, he was not wary of him. He had concluded that whatever threat the Black Tiger presented, it was not to them, and if anything, he could be valuable, given his fighting skill, so far seen only in videos. If they were to recruit him, this would be a valuable chance to observe him. They could find out his relation to Raven later. Besides, they could use help, after all, they were still somewhat exhausted from the entire ordeal of last night. All it took was for one look at Robin, and Cyborg knew he had come to the same conclusion.

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No matter his personal feelings, Robin was still mature for his age, and followed his better judgement. He had quickly reviewed a little of the information they had on their tentative ally, and already knew his value. Given that he had tracked them into the industrial area where Cellburst had waited for them, without being detected, Robin knew he was skilled. They could use a fighter and scout for this, and Robin knew enough to make the decision with confidence.

What he didn't like was the way the Black Tiger simply assumed he would be following them. Of course, given that he had given them the information, he was entitled to it.

Looking on at the rest of the Titans, he came to his decision.

"Titans, the conference room. Now". With that, events swung into action. Robin wanted to ensure that whatever Deathstroke was planning, it wasn't going to end well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Proving Ground Part 1**

Sitting in the conference room, the Titans looked at one another across the round table. The sheaf of documents lay at the centre of the small table, concise and accurate. What it had given was mostly information gained from informants operating in the criminal underworld, statistics pinpointing the latest increases in black market sales and narcotics, projections detailing the movement of various arms shipments, criminal spheres of influence and various organised crime territories, marked red.

Similarly, it cross-referenced and tracked the location of supervillain sightings and activity, marking probable bases and safe houses. It was a wealth of information any police inspector would have gladly given their soul for. Of course, the police of Jump City already had it, making its way through the bureaucracy, since information gained from a vigilante, no matter their reputation, was still suspect in the eyes of certain officials. It could best be summed up as suspicion tinged with no small amount of professional jealousy.

However, that was not the topic of conversation. Raven and her newfound bodyguard were.

SWSWSW

"I don't trust him. After what happened last night, to all of us, and now, he just waltzes into here thinking he can join us?"

Robin let the statement and question combined hand in the air, waiting for anyone to take the burden of answering it. If anything, his dislike of their newfound compatriot was obvious. He was the most vehemently opposed to their new 'partner' among the entire team.

Starfire maintained a stony silence, having already said her piece. No matter their feelings regarding the new individual, she personally felt that the suspicion, while well founded, should not have escalated into open dislike of him. No matter their feelings, the results spoke for themselves. They were alive, in no small part due to the Black Tiger. His actions had saved them, and in her opinion, action spoke louder than words. A night's sleep and a good breakfast had helped reduce her level of wariness to a _cautious_ friendliness. _Caution_ being the operative action.

Similarly, why was the Black Tiger any different from the countless others they had recruited? During the battle with the Brotherhood, they had recruited countless other heroes, often without question, without even preliminary background checks, but then again, they had been motivated by desperation and survival. They had even fought some, before making them Titans, such as Thunder and Lightning.

In the back of her mind, she suspected that Robin had other reasons to dislike the Black Tiger, reasons he was not disclosing. Whatever all of them had gone through, her meditation with Raven had strengthened her over time, allowing her to focus on the single most important thing to her. _Robin_.

The thought had allowed her to overcome the pain, the suffering, had helped to lessen the voices of the countless _dead. Her time in captivity and the experiments_. And she _knew_ in her heart that the Black Tiger, no matter his nature, intended no harm to them. _Not like here sister, not like her betrayal._ In her brief interactions with him, she had seen a distinct dichotomy between the personas he adopted. Yet, something about him inspired a feeling of respect and pity. Raven had sensed it as well, and had shared it with her. The aura of tragedy and sorrow that surrounded him, as much as the ferocity and danger that he exhibited and concealed the above, all concealed within a fortress of discipline. Raven had sensed _something_ about him that was both heart-breaking and terrifying. Something that was just beyond the blade itself, at that time, lingering at the precipice of awareness.

Like Raven had told her, it was the blade that had caused the experience, but the blade itself and its suspect nature spoke volumes about the person who wielded it.

She had been drawn close to the edge of her mortal life, had felt the dead surround her, press in on her, and something else, a _force majeure,_ held back the countless dead calling to her, the countless _beings_ on the periphery, the force protecting her, protecting them. It had compelled the dead, inspiring fear among them, commanding the restless ones to return, the quiet ones to sleep once more, the malicious ones to dare and test its wrath.

It had been him….

SWSWSW

Currently, the Black Tiger was leaning against the wall outside the conference room, waiting patiently for them to finish their discussion of him. Ostensibly, they were discussing his information. In reality, they were discussing him.

Contemplating the chronology of events as he listened, Aziz truly regretted having used Rukt that day. It had been one of those rare occasions where he felt the _need_ to carry it with him, to feel the power within it. Not that it could ever tempt him. It had tested him, and he had passed.

He knew the higher deities, gods and other cosmic beings and forces in this universe would feel the disturbances happening, and soon enough, they would try to intervene. The **Presence** itself, the supreme cosmic being and force of this universe, was sure to respond to their machinations here. The fact that the two remaining Elder Gods from before the Omniverse was born, Khallusk and Halgur, were powerful enough to erase the very existence of this multiverse and recreate in a single second, to wipe the memory of their existence from those very beings who called themselves _gods_, even the Anti-Monitor or the **Presence**, of course, would have escaped them, given that not that many individuals in any universe knew that the Omniverse existed, or that they were part of it, for that matter. The entities able to hold back their intervention, those supporting this mission, would take the appropriate actions as required, and would act when needed.

Rukt itself could unbalance the scales of power within this reality, if uncontrolled, and his purpose here required mastery over it, which he had not even achieved. He could not master it _yet_, only hold it back, denying its thirst. _Its lust_ _and hunger_...

Following simultaneously a second thought stream, he lingered momentarily on what could have caused the hostility from Robin. Obviously, there were elements of his past that were traumatic enough to cause him some form of emotional trauma. It affected different people in different ways. Subconsciously, it caused them to face their deepest fears, their deepest losses. _His losses. Rukt. Death. Children. Innocence. Hatred._

_Never alone. All alone. _

He guided his mind away from the chains of memory, the only sign of any internal disturbance the millimetre twitching of his mouth. Sitting absolutely still, he continued to wait.

SWSWSW

Garfield sat listening, pondering the obvious. While he was not a person accustomed to subtlety, he was more than capable of recognising it. Similarly, he was confident of recognising potential harm when he saw one. _Terra_. Traitor and friend, her betrayal had hurt him nearly as deeply as the death of his parents.

In the beginning, he had grown fond of her. She had always laughed at his jokes and pranks, even the ones he himself admitted were incredibly lame. Her smile had always lit up whatever room he was in. No matter the situation, even when faced with the possibility of death, her smile had always managed to restore his confidence. He had been incredibly fond of her, had shared a close friendship with her, and perhaps… had even _loved_ her.

These previous experiences coloured his judgement, as he listened to the divided opinions of the team. What they faced here was a person who had somehow, when rescuing them, had caused them to undergo emotional, mental and spiritual trauma that combined with the physical attacks, had nearly killed them. This was known as a fact. What was not known was any underlying purpose, not yet. Slowly, all of them turned to look at him. After him, Cyborg and Raven would decide the fate of their newfound compatriot.

Breathing in deeply, he delivered his conclusion in a single statement: "Probation. We evaluate him, we observe him then we decide. I'm…undecided. After what we went through, I'd rather not risk anything. Not with this guy. You all felt it. Just being around him _screams_ danger."

Memories of his dead parents had come, as did the haunting voices that reflected within his mind, as he had floated in the fluid, the nanomachines slowly ripping him apart at the cellular level. He had felt them, had felt their love, their affection, their _spirits_, envelop him, telling him to be strong, to forgive himself. That he was not to blame. Not for their deaths, not for Terra.

For him, it had brought closure. He had felt his mother's love for the first time in years, had felt his father's love. After the rescue, he had silently cried in relief before going to sleep, the heaviest burden in his heart finally removed.

His parents had died in a boating accident when he was younger, drowning before his eyes. He had only been nine then, just a child. For six entire years, everything that happened to him, he blamed on his weakness, his inability to save his parents. Over time, the nightmares had lessened, the pain had dulled, but the guilt had remained.

Now it was gone. Whatever had happened to them last night, whether it was some form of hallucination brought about by their near death, or whether they really had gone to the edge of death, it had given him closure. It had given him peace. Of course, the memories of betrayal still remained. _Terra's betrayal. Her refusal._

The only thing he could truly feel doubtful about this entire enterprise was the person in question. While he had not shared it with anyone, he pitied the…person, silently sitting outside the door. The being that was seemingly a teenager, with such haunting eyes…

"I think we should let him prove himself. We evaluate him as we do the rest. I'm with Starfire on this one. He did save us from a rather certain death, no matter what you say Robin. You may have had the equipment to save us, but ultimately, the fact is that you too were disabled by that attack, through no fault of your own. All of us were. We were exhausted, and it affected us. We still are recovering, and having someone like him bolster us now is….well, I think it's a necessity."

SWSWSW

Cyborg chose not to comment on the unusually insightful attitude of BB, instead merely nodding his head in agreement. He glanced at Robin, noting the obvious agitation that Boy Wonder was in. There not much need to say, BB having said what he wanted to say.

He suspected that all of them had gone through some mental trauma in that instance, though thankfully his partially cybernetic brain was able to shrug off the worst effects of the entire ordeal, at least the physical aspect.

_His mother screamed as the 'thing' absorbed her, its gelatinous mass engulfing her, corroding her before his very eyes. He roared as he ineffectually charged it, dragging the electric cables with him._

Cyborg attempted to replay the memory files from the night before, briefly lingering on the vague images that lingered before him, experiencing a shadow across his mind.

_They had opened a portal into the seams that existed between their plane of existence and the ones below it, to allow for faster transition times by skipping in between the spaces_

_As he watched his mother die before his eyes, Victor slammed into it, dragging the cables with him. With a roar, it expelled him and what remained of his mother, slamming him against a concrete wall and shattering his spine. Just as quickly, the potent acids that composed the body of the creature began their grisly work upon him, dissolving his flesh. As he slipped into darkness, he noticed the creature retreat, pursued by a figure wielding some electronic device, waving wildly, only to stop in its tracks as the creature regurgitated something as it retreated through the portal. _

Slight tremors crossed him as he shut down the file and stared at his hand, his body, at the cybernetic prosthetics that now composed his physical being. It hadn't been so long ago, only two years in fact, that he had been organic. Only two years since that day.

_He stared at his hand, and screamed. Desperately, he tried to move, and looked around, seeing only the cold, sterile walls of the lab. Where was his mother? Where was that beast?_

_Suddenly, he could no longer move, his limbs refusing to respond. Then, he saw his father. His father's face was blank, sorrow and regret visible in his eyes. He seemed drained of life, like an undead being somehow still alive. They were bloodshot._

"_Where is mum?"_

"_It's a bit of a shock to you, but please get used to it Victor. It's the best I could do. These prosthetics are state-of-the-art. I had to cut the power because you might have hurt yourself."_

"_Where is mum? Dad, please...stop evading it."_

"_You will notice that the circuits…"_

"_WHERE'S MY MOTHER?"_

_For the first time in his life, Victor saw his father cry, working silently and wearily as tears rolled down his eyes. Without being told, he knew. And slowly, the tears began to run from his one organic eye, the other replaced by cool, hard metal…_

If not for the titanium alloy that composed his body, he would have fared worse. As it was, much of the files from last night had eventually been corrupted via unknown processes. Of course, the memories still survived, echoing in his subconscious, surviving in the organic part of his brain.

It had been unpleasant to live through them again, tinged with no small amount of grief and pain. His father remained alive, desperately working to redeem himself in his sons eyes, providing much of the technology the Titans used, while his son innovated and refined it, his intelligence enhanced through artificial means. They did not talk much, only curtly talking to each other, cool discussions over the composition of a new alloy, or the power requirements for a new limb.

"I'm with BB on this, as well as with Raven and Starfire. _All of us_ don't trust him, Robin. Not enough with our full identities or other critical things as such, but he did save us, and he deserves a fair chance at evaluation. Why are you so hostile to him anyway?"

Robin finally lost is patience. His anger rose, peaking before he unleashed his tirade.

"I had to see my parent **DIE!** I had to see the people closest to me **DIE!** Each and every person I love….value, each and every single one of them died while I floated in that place. I had to relive the moment when Deathstroke nearly killed all of you, I had to relive the moment when I thought Bruce…Batman was nearly killed by the Joker. And through all of it, I was helpless. All I could do was watch. On top of that, Slade has returned, we just barely survived the Brotherhood, and we have some **bastard** who thinks he can approach us and simply ASK to join, and treats Raven as if she is some aristocrat …and to top it off, all of you somehow don't want to question his origins? Are all of you stupid? Have you lost your minds? After what we went through? What he put us through?"

SWSWSW

Raven was taken aback by the ferocity of Robin's statement. Usually the cool, collected one in a crises, here he was blasting away at them verbally. She could sense his emotions through their bond, the turmoil, the stress, and mostly, the exhaustion, hidden away. Not physical, but mental and emotional.

She let her coolness flow through their bond, working to drain away his anger as she took it on herself, letting it flow into her. However, she was shocked at the depth of anger and hatred, the pain, which Robin held against her ostensible bodyguard outside.

The team stood silent as Robin finished his venting, before a stony silence filled the room. Weary eyes gazed at one another before finally settling on Raven. She stood up, ready to deliver her piece. The final piece for the meeting, and one that would determine whether or not the person outside stayed or went, given that she was the one with the most contact with him so far, having been the only one to see within him, no matter how shallowly or briefly.

"I support the decision to let him stay. He has presented no threat to us, and as far as I could read from him, there is no threat to us and no harm intended for us. It's just that…well… when I tried to read his emotional state, all I could sense beneath that discipline was sorrow and tragedy. I don't know why, but I pity him. Above all else, I feel sympathy for him. As for what happened last night, it's not him, but that…_blade_ he carried."

She chose not to mention the primal passion beneath it all, like a universe about to be born. A passion so intense that it frightened her. A passion that drove his mission.

As she looked to Robin, she threw her own question to him. "Robin, if that blade could make us experience that, imagine what the wielder must experience, simply to control something so _dark_. Think about it."

Leaving him to ponder, she could see the rest planned to adjourn to their quarters for now. Glancing down at her hands, she looked through the sheaf of papers, examining the information gleaned from police and news agencies about their new compatriot.

She quickly glanced through the scans of the Black Tiger, taken as he had entered the tower earlier. Anomalies in his hair were unidentified, though they could see he was heavily armed. Possessing some sort of collapsible sabre-staff and dual katanas, along two Glock 18C pistols, custom-modified with daggers, and six bayonets sheathed along his hip, he had been required to disarm and deposit his weapons in a locker. For future reference, they had taken down blood samples, retinal scans, neural readings, pore distribution and a variety of biometric readings to aid in identification.

As always, she stared at the photo of his grey eyes, and shuddered slightly. _Atrocity and the death of innocence_, written into his eyes.

SWSWSW

As the door hissed open, Aziz stowed stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the piano wire hidden among his cropped hair, short and crew cut. Effective as a garrotte, or as a trap if strung across a corridor, it was a simple weapon, and an effective one at that.

He guessed they would probably have come to a decision regarding him, at the very least, given that they had been in there for well over an hour. The planning for any mission was minimal, given that he had completed reconnaissance of the area and surveyed it well with his partner. The prime areas for hiding, stealth zones, the ship's locations, all of it was there. They simply had to be there, observe and act.

He observed the careful, methodical steps of Raven as she exited, followed by Robin who glared at him, before storming off to his own quarters. He turned to follow Raven, intent upon his duty, as he fell into step behind her, his movements silent as he followed in her footsteps. He noticed a tic in her left shoulder, a tension held in check, visible in the tight cords of her neck. She was stressed. Thankfully, he had thrown the full weight of his influence around her when he had unsheathed _Rukt_. The others had not been as fortunate, but he had his priorities.

She abruptly stopped and turned towards him, staring at him straight in the eye. "Why are you doing this Aziz? Why are you so intent on joining us, on being my bodyguard?"

"This is because you are important Lady Raven."

"Why so?"

"It is not my place to say, but it is my duty to protect you."

"And who charged you with it?"

"Someone whom you will eventually know."

"And who would that be?"

"When the time is appropriate, they will reveal themselves to you, or I will tell you, Lady Raven."

Raven looked at him, annoyance visible in slightly furrowed brows, an anomaly in a usually passive face.

"Since you say you are my bodyguard, are you going to follow my commands, or are you just not going to care either way?"

"I will follow what is within reason and scope. Beyond that, your safety and welfare are my prime concerns, Lady Raven."

"Well then Aziz, I wish for you to stop calling me Lady Raven. If you're going to work with us, and it looks like that is going to be the case, then please call me Raven."

"Would that be a command or a request, Lady Raven?"

"A request"

Aziz did not react to statement, though Cyborg who overheard it did. It was unusual for the normally aloof Raven to just reach out to a person, but there she was, reaching out to this stranger in their home, just like that. Cyborg knew he would be watching this new one with both eyes, organic and electronic.

Aziz considered the question carefully, rolling it over in his mind for a full 3 seconds before an answer materialised.

"I believe your request can be met...Raven."

SWSWSW

In the seams of the Omniverse, Rayaan watched his foster brother closely. It was amusing, to say the least, of the interactions between his brother and the companions of the Raven Queen.

However, the one that did intrigue him the most was the alien, Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran. Very different from the other versions of her found in the other universes and realities within that cluster of multiverses. This one possessed a special _innocence_, unlike the many other versions of her, which appealed to him. She would be interesting to watch.

As it was, Halgur had already removed that particular universe from the cluster it was connected to, spinning off the creation of an entire new multiverse with that one as the core. Already, some form of energy build-up and crisis had resulted in the destruction of several thousand universes in the main cluster, with side effects spilling over onto the second cluster. An _infinite crisis_, as some of the inhabitants living in those universes termed it.

Nonetheless, they were inconsequential, and Rayaan abandoned his interest in them, turning to observe the actions of his foster sibling as he went along.

"_May the Ulthaj guide him_" was the only thought that Rayaan emitted as he stayed in his place in the void, floating aimlessly around the countless super-clusters and arrays of universes, the membranes of energy, reality and the planes of existence shifting and vibrating in colours indescribable to human beings.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Proving Ground Part 2**

Sophia Mendes sat in conference with her siblings, Ang Yin Ling and Achyuta Singh Nair, along with Rahesh Masood and Abdul Kassim Al-Rashid al-Filastani, the former her ward and the latter, Rayaan's foster son and the retainer of Aziz. Outside Sophia's office, twenty of her own bodyguards waited outside, though anyone attempting to infiltrate into the conference chamber would have had to deal with 3 metamortal beings, a highly trained military professional and a vicious Sardaukar battlemaster, though not in that order.

Ang Yin Ling was the Chief Operations Officer and Chairman of the Board for Novadyne Conglomerate, an affiliated corporation under the OCI banner, specialising in pharmaceuticals, petrochemicals, energy production and civil engineering, while Achyuta Singh Nair was one of the rising stars of industry in South Asia and South America, founder and President of Nair Electric, a major multi-national corporation with diverse interests in everything from fishing to electronics and media, though its core businesses were finance and software.

All in all, within that room was concentrated immense economic and social power, with no small amount of political influence. As a whole, Onraed Chartered Industries, a multiversal mega-corporation, was an immensely wealthy and powerful organisation, and this branch of it, headed by Sophia Vittoria Mendes, daughter and detachment-in-part of Onraed itself, Supreme AI God and archailect in service to the deity Rugal Al-Ilham, in turn in service to the Ulthaj, was no different.

In more planetary and human-centric terms, OCI as a whole was worth _at least _the combined net worth of Walmart and Microsoft, making American monoliths like Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp seem like herrings to a blue whale. With interests and stakes in practically all possible business sectors in nearly every single country and in every continent, even in Antarctica, it was an economic force to be reckoned with. Owned and controlled by Sophia Mendes, it was also one of the more ethical and ecologically aware corporations worldwide.

Sitting in their chairs, they glanced at each other as they contemplated what Sophia had told them.

SWSWSW

"That is all well and find Sophia, but what about more conventional forces. It would be rather strange for a large corporation like ours to possess such a large and well-armed force, and you do know how most governments and the general public worldwide feel about private military groups and mercenaries. Don't we anything with more _conventional_ capabilities? I mean, _Black Dragon Marines_? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Ling was the first to ask. Sophia's plans, while ambitious, had far-reaching consequences for OCI in the view of the general public as well as in the eyes of the governments of the world. Political and economic consequences.

"I am sure Ling. We increase the recruitment for the Doom Kestrel Siwang Force to increase overall numbers to a two full brigades, and I aim to recruit and maintain two battalions of Black Dragon Marines, one in Singapore and one in Kabul. I have examined the political consequences of this several times, and it's a minor problem I can handle. It's all under the umbrella of Mendes Defence Decisions. And most importantly, it's legal…mostly. There are a few legal issues in the grey area. I have another four conventional armoured infantry brigades currently undergoing training and two armour brigades fully operational, so that should be enough to meet current and projected needs for the next fifteen years at least."

"What about our orbital weapons systems? You know that the UN and the major powers will raise a furore for sure once they find out that OCI has the only fully functioning weapons systems in orbit, besides the one that everyone suspects the Justice League has in their possession."

"I know what your worry is Ling, but I've sorted out that detail. It's basically orbital precision artillery, particle beam cannons and an X-Ray laser, and only the Doom Kestrels and Black Dragons can access it for now. As it is, I've let some misinformation leak out that we are planning to abandon the orbital project due to excessive costs and failure of the systems. We'll divert their attention by setting up a more benign presence in space by starting asteroid mining. I'm sure that will help to satisfy their attention. Besides, we have enough intelligence to blackmail most of the major UN officials, the Americans, Russians, Chinese, Indians, French and British, should they choose to try and raise the issue."

Kassim was the next to talk to Sophia. A large man of Middle Eastern appearance, he was similarly not of this world, all except Rahesh. He had the honour of being one of the few people capable of defeating Lady Shiva in direct combat, who others had heard of in rumours as an unknown warrior defeating Lady Shiva in a full-contact fight within a span of seconds. He was also one of the few able to match the Black Tiger in unarmed combat for a limited time, through virtue of physical conditioning and skill, gained from Sardaukar and Ginazi training, in another time and place.

"What's my own assignment Miss Mendes? I notice you have marked down Darfur in Sudan as one of my stops?"

"Achyuta will brief you on it later, but it's simply delivery. There is a ship in Durban filled with the requisite packages. Deliver them to the southern rebels and train them in its use. I've already had my trainers withdrawn, and there is no physical evidence of our association with the southern rebels. We all know what is going on there, but of course, the UN and the great powers, as usual, has chosen to ignore the population abuse occurring right in front of them. After that, proceed to Iraq, specifically Baghdad, and continue your usual operations."

Kassim took it in his stride. Saving and reordering the world, once country at a time, was an onerous task, but he knew it was for a greater good, and would gladly obey Sophia Mendes, as he did in most things, only Lord Rayaan exceeding her in importance. He had bloodied his knife in Russia, fighting the mafia in the fringes and border areas, as well being an attendant to the Black Tiger and his battle partner.

"I assume the _Kara'thy Raksa _has been informed…."

His sentence was abruptly ended as Sophia sent him spinning, his body turning with the force of the slap. He put his palm to his reddened cheek, staring in shock at her. Only after a few seconds did he realise he had reverted to his native Ecazihind dialect, and referred to the Black Tiger by an old form of address. He slowly turned his face to look at Sophia, noticing the look of wrath on her face, staring daggers at him. While a composed person, few things made her so furious, and none more so than referring to her brother by a name associated with so much sorrow, destruction, death and slaughter. A look that was mirrored to a lesser extent in Achyuta's and Ling's faces. Rahesh maintained a poker face, choosing to be ignorant of the moment.

A stony silence filled the room, before a whispered apology by Kassim set things in motion, Sophia letting her anger go as quickly as it came, the briefings continuing as though all was well. However, the atmosphere of the room had changed, an undercurrent of fine tension flowing between everyone in the room. _Kara'thy Raksa._

SWSWSW

_Kara'thy Raksa_. _Lord of the Massacre. God of Death. Saint of Killers. Names that stretched on further into time and farther into the past than he cared for._

The names echoed in Aziz's mind. Names were important to many cultures, often giving significance to the object. It was human nature to name things. It was the nature of most sapient beings anywhere, to label objects and events with a name. In a way, the name imposed limits upon the phenomena, at least in the minds of those naming it. Names were also symbolic and conversely, exceeded their limits or had none.

Yet, names were a burden at times, and he was burdened heavily. Names were tied to the past, an intricate tapestry that often bound one in a web of relationships, either that of love and friendship or that of bitterness and hate, with all the shades in between.

_You shall not escape the violence of your ancestors, as you shall not escape the violence of your past. It runs in your blood, it remains within the chains of your memory, the incarnations of your self, your being. It is tied to your essence, your energies. Your actions, your forces, they are all a part of you. Devil. Murderer. Demon. Daemon. Angel. Saint. All of them are part of you Aziz. Warrior, soldier, commando, father…you are a paradox, mortal being yet fostered by a god, brother to one beyond your comprehension yet bound to you by love. I wish you well on this one, and pray that you have the strength to endure the memory that plagues you._

The last words of Lady Mysterion remained with them, stored in a web of mnemonic memory and chemical action. They came to him in silent moments, like now, as Cyborg briefed them on the plan of attack. They would maintain surveillance of the target; disrupt the shipment, incapacitate the perpetrators and then alert the police, who were on standby.

The Jump City Police Department and the Titans maintained a good working relationship, dividing the tasks between them. For dealing with metahumans and other threats beyond the resources of the police department, they called in the Titans. Of course, now and then the Titans worked in domains generally unrelated to their main operations. In this case, narcotics and organised crime was an area they generally did not interfere with the police, but this case was an exception, due to its covertness, the amount of money involved, the amount of suspected narcotic, and the source of their information.

While the police would eventually act on some of the information provided to them anonymously by the Black Tiger, he knew better than to trust in them. They were a bureaucracy, and their current commissioner did not take kindly to a new vigilante just appearing on the scene, especially one that operated in the more ambiguous areas of the law and had fomented a gangland war that was even now causing chaos for the police. In the case of Gotham, it was different, due to Batman being an established vigilante that operated where the police couldn't. At a latent level, most police officials admired the Batman. He did what they couldn't, and allowed them to hit well above their weight when combating major criminals like Two-Face and the Joker.

As Cyborg finished the presentation, BB was the first to rise and leave. It was already late morning, nearing noon, and given that three of the resident Titans were teenage boys, they needed to eat. Looking at his watch, Aziz arose, turning to Raven.

"I am required elsewhere Raven. Is there any secure way to communicate with you?"

"There is Aziz. All Titans carry radio transceivers to allow us to communicate in the field. For now, since you are new to us, we'll have to make one for you" Cyborg answered for Raven. One look at Cyborg's face by Raven told her all she needed to know. _Not yet. We don't trust him._

"I have an extra one here Aziz. Use it. It's encrypted and has anti-jamming features, and also works with standard cell phone frequencies. We'll meet at the Docklands Authority as planned at the specified time."

Raven gave a short glare at Cyborg, before palming the communicator into Aziz's hand. Thanking her in his quiet manner, he turned and left, his walk precise and economical, no emotion visible in his body language, little energy wasted.

SWSWSW

"What was _that_ for?" Cyborg hissed at Raven in anger, barely keeping from yelling.

"I made a decision."

"Well, it was a bad decision. He's on trial, and he's not a real Titan yet. After what happened with the Brotherhood, you think we should just continue to hand out communicators like that?"

"No, but from the beginning, all his actions have been directed at earning our trust. He revealed his identity from the beginning, and you all know how important secret identities are in this profession, this vocation. I made a choice to trust him, and my instinct tells me that the trust I place in him isn't misplaced."

"Why? After…how can you be so sure of his character, straight from the start?"

"I just…know."

Cyborg nodded. "Very well. But I'll be watching him _Lady_ Raven, and so should you." His anger found its outlet in a rare sneer, as he turned his back on her, restraining the greater part of his anger at her.

Walking off in the direction of the kitchen, Cyborg did not see Raven gripping her shoulder with her other hand, looking at the floor, her body slightly shivering. Her reasons were her own, and her friends didn't need to know. Not yet.

For some unfathomable reason, Aziz made her feel _secure_. The demon within, the ferocity and anger that always burned at some level, it always had to be subdued. With Trigon banished, it was easier, but it still needed to be fought. In his presence, the demonic side of her screamed in terror, acting on some primal level as it recoiled from him and retreated into dormancy. From _what_, she didn't know, but she chose not to question further. In good time, she would find out. Of that, she was confident.

Another development was her sudden discovery that she could no longer read his emotions. Just as Aziz had left her vicinity, she had reached out to 'touch' him, but found nothing but static, a white noise that blended into the general static generated by the emotions of so many beings. It was as if he could camouflage himself, reducing himself to a mote in the eye of a storm.

SWSWSW

Aziz stood at the centre of the mat. Around him were assembled all of his associates and partners. They were his battle-partners, business partners, employees and associates, as well as his support staff, and stakeholders in the enterprise currently known as the "Jumping Jungle", the place to be for the younger crowd in Jump City, as well as the working professionals, executives, managers and businesspeople. A nightclub cum restaurant and bar situated along the Pacific Coast, it was situated in the San Angeles district of Jump City, with diverse demographics reflecting the melting pot that Jump City was. Primarily Hispanic and immigrant Japanese, it was also the main nightlife, beach resort and water sports north of San Fancisco.

Jump City was a young city, barely two decades old, and the population reflected it. As such, nightlife entertainment was a profitable business to venture into, and to fill in his spare time, that was what Aziz did. More than a millennia of living as a nomad and adventurer did much to shape what was primarily a human mind, as well as learn multiple skills in multiple domains and extensive general knowledge. It allowed one to not only learn and experience in full the different lifestyles available, but also to learn the most vital skill of all; adaptability. Being a businessman was one of the skills Aziz had learnt throughout his life, though not a passion. It was a means to survive, and survive successfully, he did.

Under his name were also several other buildings and plots of land along the coast, making him one of the wealthier individuals within Jump City. This was of course, concealed through a network of informants and corporate accounts under OCI management, with several personal accounts with accumulated wealth of up half a billion located in discrete Swiss banks. He also owned and maintained several properties and safehouses in Singapore, Jakarta, Sydney, Melbourne, Kuala Lumpur, Bangkok, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Monaco, Paris, Brussels, Geneva, London, Zurich, Prague, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, Sau Paulo, Tel Aviv, Cape Town and Durban. This was, of course, managed and administered through OCI as well, specifically one of its property management subsidiaries. The only individuals aware of his financial disposition were his siblings. Not even his close associates knew of his wealth.

Of course, his prime business was his nightclub and restaurant, which served as a perfect cover. Who would suspect a supposedly sixteen-year old individual running a nightclub to be a vigilante, just as who would suspect an orphaned billionaire playboy to be among the most respected vigilantes in the world, by enemy and friend? It was a way to finance the requirements of his lifestyle, his passive income far outstripping the active income he received from the nightclub. Still, his active income was more than enough to ensure a materially secure lifestyle with financial abundance.

Looking dispassionately at his partners he assessed them. They knew enough to know that he was not really sixteen, and that he was by far the oldest person in the room. They shifted their stances, fidgeted slightly, while Aziz remained perfectly still.

Around were assembled; Abdul Kassim Al-Rashid al-Filastani, Arrio Wong Siao Hu, also known as Crazy Tiger, Rahesh Masood the Afghan Fox, Lau Kan Seng aka 'Laughing Lau", Kang and Idimmu.

Forming in a circle around him, they were a diverse group with many talents, with one thing in common, a loyalty to him that was bought with blood, money, honour and friendship. Bonded to him as they were, they also served the monolithic OCI, and like him, were all nomads of a sort, free spirits wandering the earth in fulfilment of one purpose or another.

"Let us begin."

With that, they attacked him in unison.

SWSWSW

Kassim was a capable fighter, so capable in fact, that he had defeated Lady Shiva in a fight that lasted less than 2 minutes, one he clearly dominated. Similarly, he was more than a match for the esteemed Constantine Drakon, defeating him on multiple occasions when encountering him in the dingy alleys of Hong Kong.

Of course, he never gave his name, and always operated under an assumed alias. While not as old as Aziz, he was also similarly endowed with an extended lifespan and youth, and was human, though of the evolved variety.

Launching a strike with his fist, he landed a solid blow to the Black Tiger's jaw, before following up with an uppercut that met empty air. Abruptly, he felt gravity begin to pull him down as a hand clamped down on his throat, clenching it in an iron grip as he was slammed into the foam rubber mat beneath him. Tensing his conditioned muscles, he twisted, somersaulting away from the melee.

Arrio launched himself at Aziz. A keen combat sportsman, he had studied Combat Sambo and mastered the Indian martial art of Silambam, a staff fighting system was both efficient and designed to meet multiple opponents with vicious force, or overwhelm an opponent with focused, powerful blows. He was skilled enough that he had qualified for the national team in his home country of Malaysia. He was just as expertly skilled in Shootfighting, being an instructor of the art. He lashed out with his foot, a heel stomp meeting with emptiness, as a blur of motion in front of him formed into the coherent image of a palm slamming him in the side of his head. 3 seconds into the fight, and he was unconscious, flat out in a heap.

The next was Rahesh Masood. An ethnic Tajik from Afghanistan, he had been the ward of Sophia Mendes as a child, now a military professional working under the auspices of Mendes Defence Decisions. As such, he had extensive close combat training, and was a powerful wrestler and brawler, his skills honed under the tutelage of Kassim, himself a product of Sardaukar and Ginazi training. Sending a backfist towards his temple, he felt his arm get trapped. Following the motion, he entered the guard, attempting to perform a guillotine choke while sending a knee strike to Aziz's lower back. His knee was promptly blocked by a raised shin, the bone absorbing the full power of the blow. Before he knew it, a headbutt knocked him into the realm of dreams, his last sensations being that of flight as a reverse throw sent him flying away. By this time, 7 seconds had passed.

Kan Seng entered next, using the opportunity that Kassim's next attack provided by sending a powerful elbow strike to Aziz's temple from his side. A direct hit drew blood as the sharp point of his elbow rasped over the dry skin. Any normal person would have been knocked unconscious, possibly killed, or at least overwhelmed with pain. In return, a powerful stomp kick slammed into his groin, cracking his groin guard. It knocked the wind out of him, as pain radiated outwards, the shock bruising his soft tissues.

Aziz kept on fighting.

What followed next was a series of move, countermove, deflection, parry, block, strike, twist, grab and choke as the fight evolved, striking changing to grappling, lightning kicks and punches raining down on the single defender from all directions. Most of them were successfully blocked, many parried, others dodged and evaded.

Aziz leaned back, watching coolly as a heel kick delivered by Kassim missed him by centimetres. His expression didn't change as he formed his hand into a knife hand, sending it straight at the throat of Kan Seng. A brief choking was heard, before three more strikes were delivered in a split second. A chop to the side of the neck, hitting a nerve cluster, a brief tensing of the thumb as it drove hard into the tendons, paralysing them with pain. The finale was a palm heel strike to the chin that sent Kan Seng flying upwards for a full metre and a half, nearly hitting the ceiling.

Even as he continued his graceful fall, two deadlier opponents entered the fight. Kang and Idimmu were cyborgs, both possessing heightened speed and reflexes. Kang was the stronger of the two, with subdermal armour and hardened bones, capable of pressing up to a ton. Idimmu was the more agile of the two, with cybernetic legs capable of kicking through 16-inch thick steel plate. Both also had kata calculators implanted within their organic brains, allowing for fast evaluation of a melee fight, recording, analysing and evaluating scenarios within milliseconds. They were capable of fighting off entire mobs of people, slipping in and out of the chaos, mathematical grace expressed in their fighting forms.

Working as a team, they slammed into Aziz, bringing him to the ground. Grappling ensured, as Idimmu grabbed Aziz's left arm, brining it into a lock as he threw himself to land perpendicular across his body, elbow trapped in between his legs. Slowly, he began to apply pressure, forcing it out of alignment. Kang knelt on top of Aziz, raining down blows on his downed opponents face, keeping his position on Az. Curling up, Aziz crossed his legs over Kang's neck, using his bodyweight and leverage to slam him headfirst into the floor, at the same time using his full strength to throw Idimmu off him, twisting his arm as he moved the muscles and tendons, dislocating and realigning it within seconds through conscious muscle control.

Just then, Kassim stepped in, electricity crackling from his bare hands. Closing with Aziz, he suddenly felt an axe kick slam into his hip with bone-breaking force. The titanium plate he had been wearing as a defensive measure broke under the power of the strike.

Flipping backwards, he left Idimmu and Kang to their work. Just as suddenly, Kang went flying back from the melee, falling in an awkward position as he connected with the still unconscious Rahesh, caught in midair as he had tried to bring his elbow down on Aziz's skull. Idimmu fared no better, his lightning reflexes allowing him to defend against a roundhouse to his kidneys, a blow which his raised shin absorbed. As he sent a jab to force distance between them, a hook kick sent him spinning, followed by a cartwheel kick that sent one foot into his legs and another into his back, forcing him to collide with the wall, before slumping to the ground in a stupor.

Now it was just Kassim and Aziz. Eyeing each other, the two met in a flurry of blows and parries, Kassim himself enclosed in a tornado of flame and boiling water whips, electricity arcing through the air to connect with a now empty space. Pirouetting to face where his opponent should have been, he felt himself grabbed from behind. Performing a suplex, Aziz sent him sprawling to the ground, before getting Kassim in a guillotine choke, choking off both air and blood supply to the body and brain. Within seconds, Kassim began to tap the floor, indicating submission. As he was released, he gasped for air.

Standing up, he noticed the others staggering around, bruised and somewhat bloodied from the fight. In total, it had lasted 30 seconds. He noted that Aziz was not perspiring as the others were, maintaining a constant, even breathing.

"You were holding back Az". Kassim said it with a wry smile. He was one of the few people who had a fighting chance of surviving a fight with him in melee conflict and a less than fifty chance of winning a fight from a distance, even with his powers.

"You allowed yourself to be hit. You're holding back."

"Well Kassim, you were holding back yourself." was the reply.

"Well, for the next round, we'll be using shields. And this time, I won't be holding back."

"Do as you wish. Take two minutes rest. The minute the alarm goes off, we start the next session."

With that statement, a collective groan was heard from everyone. Training sessions for the 'Jungle Crew', as Kan Seng had named it, were anything but fun.

As the next session began, not one of them could hit the blur that moved around the room, its speed nearly metahuman, operating at the very edges of human ability. And as usual, Kassim managed to match him for a limited time, thought to no great effect. The end result was the same. But each and every single one of them knew that in a fight to the death, if the Black Tiger had wanted to kill them, all of them would have been dead inside a minute; and him without a single scratch.

As for now, it was only full-contact training, and that was bad enough, as far as his battle partner Idimmu was concerned. To have Aziz as an enemy was a one way ticket to the afterlife, if he desired to kill you.

SWSWSW

Watching the sun set from the pool, Robin watched as the sun slowly sank into the oceans, a giant orb that seemed to sink into the endless depths, the waters quenching its flames. He knew it would rise again. The Sun always would. "_Well, at least for the next five billion years or so"_, he wryly thought.

He had retreated to his room, coming out for lunch, enjoying a rather strange hybrid of tofu and pasta. After more than year of living together, things were starting to settle down between the different members of the team. Everyone's little quirks and eccentricities had been eventually accepted and accommodated, such as BB's nearly insane appetite for tofu, which had resulted in several conflicts between the carnivorous Cyborg and vegetarian BB. In a rare display of camaraderie, they had worked together, whipping up a surprisingly edible meal consisting of Cyborg's signature pasta, some strange tofu drowned in tomato sauce, and salad that Robin had cooked himself, just in case…

He exhaled deeply, letting the air flow from his mouth like a torrent. After lunch, he had slept, enjoying the six hours immensely. Revitalised emotionally, with less stress upon his system, he had practiced some of the Tai Chi that Bruce had taught him to relax his mind and body. Lying on his back on the cool concrete, he stretched lazily. He had a few more minutes before they had to leave to meet their new ally.

Reflecting on his behaviour, Robin admitted to himself that he had been…unbalanced in the past day. Exhaustion, more than anything, was the cause of it, and it was ebbing away now, the aggressive release in the conference room aiding in its relief. He had already apologised to the others, who had been more than understanding. However, his suspicions remained.

Why was the Black Tiger treating Raven like some aristocrat, and what were his motivations?

One thing he had gained as the protégé of Batman, and as a ward of Bruce Wayne, was a healthy sense of paranoia and a disturbing thoroughness in his preparations and investigations. These were the things he would find out, and the first order of business after this raid was to probe deeper into the Black Tiger's origins.

For now, he let himself be, enjoying the sunset.

As he watched the sun continue to sink, he felt rather than heard Raven join him, as she rose out of the dark shadow that formed on the roofs surface.

"Hey."

"Hey back to you."

"Beautiful sunset."

"I know."

That was the end of words, because, that was all that was needed, as the sun set in the distance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Proving Ground Part 3**

Aziz slowly walked down the stairs. Despite all the wealth he did have, he had simple needs, and preferred to keep it that way, his only luxuries being his books, and perhaps his single motorcycle. To him, wealth was an indication of success, but not something you indulged in too much, for wealth weakened as much as it could strengthen. He lived a rather Spartan lifestyle, his own bedroom being mostly a library and weapons locker, his own bed being a mattress on the floor. He was quite happy to let his sister place the funds into educational projects around the world and providing loans to poor farmers, as he had directed.

The training session had ended, much to the relief of those assembled, due to the requirement for Aziz to pick up Anya from her school, Murakami Secondary School. It was one of the few times that he felt something close to peace, content to simply ride down on his motorcycle and pick up his ward. Officially the adopted daughter of Sophia Mendes, at least according to the paperwork, she was in reality more akin to an aunt. Even to himself, Aziz chose not to admit how he felt about Anya. Of course, the way Anya felt about him was more than obvious to everyone close to them, seeing him as her father and big brother combined.

_His daughter_. No. She was simply his ward, and he was her guardian. There was nothing deeper to the relationship than that. If any of his associates had known what he was thinking, they would have laughed at his denial.

Starting off on his Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R as he mounted it, custom-modified with hydrogen fuel cells, nitrous oxide boosters and painted a matte midnight blue, it was capable of top speeds of up to 430 km/h, and able to go without refuelling for a respectable 3000 km on its hydrogen fuel cells, and a further 765 km on its 4.5 gallon fuel tank. A rare grin crossed his face as he gunned the engine. If there was an advantage to possessing extremely advanced picotechnology, this was one of them.

**WWW**

Anya patiently waited for Az, sitting down on the steps. Strawberry blonde hair framed an oval face with deep set green eyes, a face that had not fully matured into its full beauty, though anyone looking at her could sense that she would grow into it. The awkwardness of puberty only served to accentuate her facial features, high cheekbones framing them.

If anything, in her later years she would inflame the passions of any human male, and many non-human males for that matter. This was, of course, to their detriment, given who her guardian was.

She heard a door slam, and turned to look at side stairwell, seeing Tara Markov exiting. Her senior by 4 years, Tara was a one of the prettier girls, known for her blond hair, blue eyes, slim body and lanky limbs, slender and athletic. Her body was lanky, an indication of her membership in the school cross-country team. She was also her tutor in geography and physics. It was a slow day, due to the weeklong break.

She had just finished her lessons at Aunt Soph's place, before heading down to her school where Az would pick her up. Just then, the roar of a powerful motor broke the silence of the school field, as her guardian came barrelling into the grounds on his bike. The minute she saw him, her face lit up, as a grin spread from ear to ear. She glanced at Tara, waving goodbye to her.

Running to the bike, she threw her arms around the rider, wearing a grey singlet, Bermuda shorts and wearing sandals. He tapped her head and mussed up her hair, slightly uncomfortable with the public display of affection as she hugged him tighter before letting go. Putting on her helmet, she mounted the back of the powerful machine, holding on tightly as it accelerated away, the wind whipping her face through the opened visor.

She failed to notice the intense interest of her guardian, as he intently watched Tara Markov from a distance, before pressing down on the pedal and accelerating onto the main road. Already, questions were forming in his mind. A premonition, and a memory, a face remembered in perfect detail, though one more aged, lurked in the back of his mind.

As they hit the open road, following the winding coast back home, she saw the sun setting in the distance. Tired from a long day, she leaned her head onto his back, and felt the security of his presence envelope her. She remembered vaguely a bad place, had suppressed those memories. She couldn't face them. But the one thing she remembered most was leaving that _nightmare_ of her past. He had come for her. He had rescued her, _her father_. Shivering slightly from the wind, she clung onto him more tightly.

**WWW**

Idimmu prepared the equipment, knowing that Gang Hu would be back soon. He had formerly been an electrical engineer, working in the maritime industry. An accident had robbed him of the ability to walk, but Sophia had given him the chance to walk again with her gift of cybernetic limbs.

Of his own choice, he had chosen to become one of her bodyguards, out of loyalty to her, though the salary and the opportunity to travel around the world had appealed to him. He had spent two full years gaining her trust and training, until he had been informed of a requirement as a liaison. Unexpectedly, his assignment, and friend, was Gang Hu. It was near impossible not to like and respect the fellow. Silent, neutral, damn near impossible to read his emotions or tell what he was thinking.

An enigma as well, in the past year, he recalled seeing him truly smile only twice, both times around Anya. He was a surpassingly warm person, when he wasn't aloof, Idimmu wryly noted. Everyone knew it, except Gang Hu. He treated everyone around him, no matter their position or appointment, with dignity and respect. It was no wonder that a lot of the employees of the nightclub liked him. It a way, he was like a Buddha, untouched by the chaos around him, merely flowing through it. But then again, was that a mask, or was that the authentic Gang Hu? Sophia said yes, but Idimmu suspected differently.

He preferred the Chinese name of his friend; Unyielding Tiger, Gang Hu. Tonight, they were to meet the one that was deemed so important on this first mission together. Sophia had briefed him on her. Raven, daughter of Trigon of the Scathekin and Angela Roth, now known as Arella.

The resources and contingencies dedicated to her protection were exceptional. Sophia had rated her life and safety as a greater priority than even her own, telling him that killing was permissible by him in her defence, if the situation demanded it. It was telling that Gang Hu was assigned to her ability.

And Sophia was never the one to demand death or violence, unless for good reason.

However, what shocked Idimmu more than anything was her assignment of Black Dragon Marine Elites to her protection, as well as Gang Hu. He had seen the Black Dragon Marines in action, and they were bad enough. Their Elites were a league above. Somewhere in the city was a force of people more than capable of taking out even the Black Tiger, and for that matter, a large part of the criminal underworld should they be ordered to do so.

Just then, he heard the roar of the motorbike below, from his room on the third level. He smiled. Anya was back.

**WWW**

If there was possibly one being in this universe with the power to dominate and bend the Black Tiger to their will, it was Anya. Behind, he trudged up the stairs, carrying her bag, his face neutral and passive as usual, though anyone with experience might have thought they saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

Sighting Idimmu, she ran up to him and hugged him, staggering him as he absorbed her weight, his legs silently whirring and the adaptive motors increasing their output.

"Little Djádja (Little Uncle)! How was your day? What did you do? Did Az kick your asses again? Is there any work? Can I…."

"Slow down Anya. Yes, my day was good. Yes, your _father_ kicked our arses again, and yes, I have work for you. Take the dogs for a walk. If you need help, ask Kang, or Rahesh. They're probably on the X-Box. And after that, you can go down to the kitchen and help Arrio with the sushi.

"Sure thing djádja!"

Quick as a flash, she left the two men alone, leaping up the stairs as she headed to the games room.

With that settled, Idimmu turned his attention to Aziz. Briefly, he thought he saw Aziz give him a baleful glare, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. But then again, with someone like him, you never knew. Sophia Mendes was a cautious woman, and always had contingencies, even for dealing with her brother.

"Gang, we need to get to the dockyards soon. Your Titans are probably on the way there by now. So, what's your loadout for tonight? Your usual gear?

"Yes, but…"

Their conversation was interrupted by the screams of the mock terror that emanated from the living room, as two large Pakistani Mastiffs slammed into Anya, greeting their mistress in an assault of shock, awe and drool, spittle flying in a great geyser as they leapt upon her, licking away at her face.

In addition, a large Alsatian and two Rhodesian Ridgebacks added to the assault, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to greet their young mistress. In the melee, the five dogs rapidly overpowered the young girl, before a sharp command barked by Aziz caused them to turn their attention to him, mobbing him in a flurry of flying fur and drool. In an even tone, he sharply commanded them to sit, which they did, the discipline an indication of the ranking within the perceived pack. All of them knew who the alpha was.

"Yes, the usual. As for your guns, bring a single magazine of live rounds, just in case. The Titans have a strict no-kill policy."

Idimmu nodded, but in the back of his mind, his thoughts were darker. _Will that rule even stop you Gang Hu? You're a killer. Like Kassim said_, _and he's the closest thing you have to a best friend. Karas'Thy Raksa. I know about Russia. You kill out of love. You kill out of duty. My friend, even I've been ordered to watch you. As strong and tough as you are, you are the loneliest and the most pitiful of all Gang Hu, because, you're the demon that know's no love…_

**WWW**

Deathstroke waited in the shadows of the warehouse, uncomfortable with the vulnerability of the position. Open and exposed to attack, his years as a mercenary, before adopting his masked identity, had ingrained into him an aversion to vulnerable spaces. He had taken necessary steps to rectify that, with hidden duplicates of himself scattered throughout the dock.

Hiding in the various niches available, and even underwater, the rest of his older model robots awaited. Once top of the line, he had upgraded them with plastic explosives to serve as self-destruct mechanism, should they be disabled. They were obsolete trash, given how the Titans had made simple work of all of them.

Similarly, their cost effectiveness was in doubt, given the cost to maintain them, the rarity of their parts, and the wear and tear they went through, simply trying to carry out his tasks. Perhaps he would switch to more cost effective _human_ personnel. Military experience had taught him one thing over the years; _Machines will break, people don't._

Of course, the statement was not entirely true, but in the long-term, the use of humans was more cost-effective, until technology allowed him to field his mechanical minions more effectively. In all, a grand total of 119 units had been salvaged from his caches throughout Jump City. Personally, he felt that relocating his main operations centre to a different city was required. Perhaps Sau Paulo in Brazil was an option. A ready market, with the right mix of poverty and crime. Those were always profitable.

Waiting in shadows, he noticed the ship coming to dock at Pier 9, Warehouse 7, East Docks. Flying a French flag, it was called _Le Enfant Terrible, _coming in from Bogota, the capital of Colombia. A container ship of carrying mostly imported cars and foodstuffs, what did set it apart was that there was one container of 'frozen pork' onboard. He had been told to meet a contact here, in preparation for receiving it, as well as its transport to one of Slade's personal warehouses on the outskirts of the city. He had been told to meet Ascanio Rosa, his physical description simply provided by an informant as 'menacing', and a single blurry photo.

Methodically and efficiently, the stevedores attended to their duties, offloading the cargo the container vessel, while a Customs officer supervised them, checking through the list. The container with the package was waved through, the customs controller jotting its number down. Slade knew at once that this was the man who'd been bribed. It would precede as usual, the container mysteriously being sent to another country due to a 'clerical error' on the part of the controller.

In reality, he would attend _personally_ to its transport. Slade was an amoral profiteer, cared only for the revenue he could gain.. However, he knew better than to betray an organisation as powerful as the Ahriman Society, even though he knew that many of the Gotham cartels would pay top dollar for these drugs, over and above what he was paying to the Ahriman Society to be included as a facilitator. He was canny enough to realised that the shipment was a test of him, besides being an initial foray into a new market for them.

As a venture partner, for a limited time and to a limited extent, their resources and protection extended to include him. And this was protection, though he was loath to admit it, that he desperately needed. The recent debacles, and the infrastructure destroyed during the vendetta with the Titans, had done much to cripple his operations in Jump City. While he disliked dealing in illicit drugs, it had extremely high profit margins, and he would have to build up some decent reserves before returning to his older business of contract killing services and weapon sales.

Leaning against the wall, he rubbed his hand across the metal container, before punching at the concrete wall, leaving an indentation. His patience was beginning to wear thin.

**WWW**

Moving with a liquid grace, the Black Tiger landed on the rooftop of the main office block of the dock. The blue and white Titans jeep parked in the compoint told him the Titans were already there. On the nearby roof, 2 jetbikes sat together, one midnight blue, the other inky black with stripes of vermillion, streamlined and deadly. Powered by a cold fusion power plant and propelled by a laser ramjet that superheated the air, the engine was capable of heating air and water, making the jetbike capable of aquatic travel or aerial flight.

To the left was Idimmu, his breath visible as mist in the cool night air. Given the Mediterranean climate of California, winters were mild, cool and wet. Tonight was no exception, the wind chill reducing the temperature further. Weather forecasts predicted slight subzero temperatures. Not a night to swim.

**WWW**

The Titans landed on the roof, Raven levitating Cyborg, while Starfire lifted Robin, Beast Boy reverting from his pterosaur form.

Robin regarded the Black Tiger, before noticing the other person in the background. Dressed in urban military gear, he was wearing a raid vest, with elbow and knee guards; face obscured by a wraparound mirrorshades and bandana, carrying a HK 416 assault rifle.

A pair of goggles hung around his neck, attached by a leather tether. Tactical webbing with several pouches was attached to a load-bearing vest or LBV in military nomenclature, with knee and elbow pads a matte black. His uniform fabrics shifted in colour, shifting to match the background, while a black cotton mesh shirt served as a vest, insulated his body core and absorbed sweat.

"Who is he?" Robin asked warily. Aziz had mentioned another person in a note, but had given no further explanation, having left in a hurry.

"Idimmu."

Idimmu nodded, acknowledging them.

"Idimmu, the Titans."

Idimmu stuck his hand out in offer of a handshake to Robin, who gingerly reached out to him.

"Which one is the Lady Raven?" rasped Idimmu.

"Me."

Idimmu appraised her, looking at her up and down, before silently giving her his respect, bowing at the hips and putting his hand to his heart. Raven remained motionless, acknowledging him with the slight nod of her head. She knew of no other way to react. She would find out their agenda, one way or another.

**WWW**

The Black Tiger moved on the rooftops, parallel to Raven, her shadow visible to him. Idimmu was nowhere to be seen, shadowing her, his thermoptic camouflage concealing him from visual or thermal detection. Wisely, they had chosen not to mention that to Raven. They had obliquely referred to him following her, mentioning his proximity to her.

As per his request, and in an effort to keep an eye on him, the Titans had assigned him a route parallel to Raven. He jogged over the warehouses, his footsteps muffled by latex polymer boot soles. Moving like oil over water, his sounds were silent and muffled.

He scented the air, taking in the odours around him. Stale air, the scent of nicotine and cheap perfume. Brief murmurs from below told him of a card game happening in the storeroom of the warehouse below him. Senses honed to the human limit and beyond remained alert for any threat.

Just then, he heard the whir of motors at the edge of his hearing, the tang of petroleum-based lubricants wafting from multiple directions.

**WWW**

Multiple units activated as they detected a threat from their files. An alpha-level threat approached. The imperative was to intercept, capture if practical, but otherwise, they were to disable or destroy the threat.

The targets designation: Raven. Daughter of Trigon, she was a powerful empath, with portal creation and extensive psychokinetic abilities. A skilled magic user, she used a chant to focus and summon her powers. Given her classification as the most powerful of the Titans, she was their first priority. The prime strategy was to disable her vocal abilities. If practical ,cripple and disable, capture to use as a hostage. If not practical, employ lethal measures.

Another presence was also detected; a normal human. Slight anomalies were detected, but the biometric data did not match Richard Grayson. It was a human male of adolescent age. Unknown classification, but a threat was not expected. The subject exhibited above-average mobility skills. Observe and engage if necessary.

**WWW**

Ascanio Rosa walked down the gangway, his large frame filling up the width of it. At 2.14 metres tall and a hefty 170 kg, all of it muscle mass and bone, he was a fine honed machine, with a mind the equal of any Harvard postgraduate and with a strength and skill great enough to hold his own against even the brute Bane.

A liaison and one of the few unaugmented humans to be a personal bodyguard to the Lord Imperial Derman Ugorj of the Ahriman Society, he accompanied Cyrus Creed, an Adept of the Third Circle of Ahriman and CEO of Creed Pharmaceuticals, who was currently hidden behind a mask, his form obscured by a holographic disrupter, causing dizzying swirls of colour to bend around him, obscuring his form. He was their main contact in California.

Around them, the four Baghatur Companion Honour Guards of the Ahriman Society formed a box around them, menacing hulks with features concealed by the high collars of the trench coats they were wearing. An aura of fear radiated outwards from them, the shifting beneath their trench coats indicative of concealed weapons. Their deployment as attaches to Ascanio Rosa spoke of the trust which the Lord Imperial held in his bodyguard.

With skills honed by instructors of outstanding calibre, such as Alpha, Bronze Tiger, Constantine Drakon, Merlyn and the legendary Professor Ebeneezer Darrk, onetime chief of the League of Assassins, and bodies honed through constant, brutal training in the wilds of Africa and North Korea as well as heavy chemical augmentation to enhance their muscle efficiency and stamina, they were killing machines of great sophistication, and highly valued.

Themselves of high calibre, they trained their own as their instructors had trained them, each successive regimen even more inhuman than the last, until they were perhaps among the best fighters on the planet, whether armed or unarmed, elite killers, whether with weapon or bare hands, whether with poison or traps, they were undisputed masters of the art.

The 20 Ahriman Alip Guard formed a larger square around them, spread out in a staggered line on all four sides. Extremely competent and professional, with a fanatical loyalty to the Ahriman Society, they were the superior of any conventional military, each individual trained to the standard of the famed US Navy Seals.

Loyal and disciplined, they were further enhanced with bone grafts of depleted promethium-titanium alloy to their bones and chemical augmentations that tripled their reaction speed and increased their overall muscle mass. Equipped with the most sophisticated conventional weapons and equipment, they were a force to reckon with.

Spreading out into the darkness, they moved silently, their movements sinuous and stealthy, the fabrics of their clothing blending with the colours of the background. In a few seconds, they disappeared against the grey concrete, leaving the main delegation to meet Deathstroke.

Surrounding the area were additional androids of the Baghatur Fedayeen, merciless killing machines linked to a single processor. Of a standard far superior to Slade's robot duplicates, they were capable of adapting and analysing while on the go, adapting to the tactical situation with each second, learning from their enemies.

Lightweight titanium alloy chassis of tremendous strength flexed and moved, thick ceramic foam insulating the androids and protecting the AI core of the units. Programmed with multiple fighting techniques gleaned from David Cain and the Bronze Tiger, and armed with acoustic, tactile and visual sensors and a powerful sonic emitter and boron-hydrogen fusion plasma cannon, they were representative of the quality of technology, engineering and industrial capacity that the Ahriman Society commanded.

**WWW**

"Welcome to Jump City. My name is Wilson Slade, but you may call me Deathstroke." Smooth tones belied a sinister aspect.

Ascanio towered over him, his eyes like pits of hell as he glanced down to meet the gaze of Wilson Slade. Each pair searched the other, looking for weakness. When Ascanio was satisfied, he looked back to his honour guard, one of whom carried a briefcase. Coming forward, he methodically opened it, revealing a glimpse of several financial statements, listing accounts and banks scattered throughout South American and Europe. Turning to look at Deathstroke, whom he towered over, he reached out to shake his hand, a handshake Deathstroke gladly returned.

"We've set up several accounts for you to deposit the money. They are listed here. You will have until tomorrow to memorise the notes, before they self-destruct. They are written on paper with an ink fixed to decompose after a set time, and can't be copied. Assuming the best, we calculate an income of 1 billion from this shipment alone. After this, we intend to shift to weapons trading. Are you acceptable to the terms?"

Deathstroke stepped backward slightly, in shock from mention of the money involved. Given the usual purity and grade of heroin, he had calculated it to be in the realm of perhaps 200 million dollars. The fact that more than a billion dollars worth of pure heroin of extremely high grade had just slipped through the security systems of 6 different countries did not escape him.

Just then, an explosion of blue light lit the sky, as the robots seeded by Slade throughout the dock attacked the incoming Titans. In the background, the sudden wail of police sirens sounded.

Without missing a beat, the entire Ahriman contingent retreated towards the cargo ship, the withdrawal done with the ease of experienced veterans. They would board their submarine, hovering in place below the cargo ship, before slipping through the coastal screen off the Western Seaboard, heading for the open oceans.

"Well, are you coming?" the distorted figure of Cyrus Creed asked Deathstroke. Calm indifference spoke of tremendous non-concern for the actions of the police. Slowly, he walked back towards the ship as the sirens increased in volume.

Looking at the explosions in the distance, Deathstroke shook his head. As Cyrus turned to follow his associate in retreat, Deathstroke made for his own escape route, already planned for, as he lifted a manhole cover and slipped into the sewer system of Jump City.

So his sources had been right. The police had somehow received an anonymous tip that a drug shipment was coming in tonight, and they had entered the scene. However, they were heading to the wrong dock.

Meanwhile, the Fedayeen androids reacted of their own volition, a fifth of their number coordinating to provide a distraction, while the remainder returned to base. In all, 23 androids bounded away to where the bulk of Slade's androids were known to be.

**WWW**

Robin and Starfire had conducted a pincer movement, moving along the waterline of the docks, intent on sneaking up on where Deathstroke was supposed to be, when out of nowhere, multiple robots mobbed him and Starfire. They had only moved out when Robin had been assured that Idimmu would only use rubber bullets. It had cost them 5 minutes, as Idimmu argued over keeping his single clip of live ammunition, which Robin Beast Boy currently had in his possession.

Moving along, they were ambushed from all directions as over 60 units moved from cover, pelting them with a rain of plasma bolts.

Temporarily overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the mob, as they pelted him and Starfire with concussive plasma, they had retreated into the maze of warehouses that made up the docks.

Setting traps, they fell back to join BB and Cyborg, who had the fortune of taking the central route, which also happened to be narrower, and where the mass numbers of the robots would be to their advantage, the numbers clogging them up in the narrow streets.

However, what worried both of them was the fact that the greatest number of explosions was coming from the region which Raven had taken, accompanied by Aziz. As police cars arrived to reinforce them, Cyborg sent a blast flying in the direction of the robots, blasting one through a wall, while Robin let out a cloud of pellet bombs, the air in front of him exploding in a fury of smoke and shrapnel.

For now, they would have to look after themselves.

**WWW**

Raven breathed heavily as the androids mobbed her, her telekinetic shields crushing them against the walls of the enclosed space. She had phased through the wall of the warehouse when the droids had first attacked, mobbing her in a frenzy of deflected blows and rapid shots from their plasma blasters.

A rapidly summoned shield bore the full brunt of a blast as a damaged robot self-destructed close to her, propelling her through the air and slamming her through glass, the shards cutting her across the face and her exposed arms and legs.

As she tried to sit up, winded, a sudden haze formed in the air in front of her, as the silent stranger, Idimmu, suddenly appeared in front of her, his assault rifle pointed straight at the oncoming mob, his body shielding her.

"Lady Raven, Run!"

Without a strangled growl, he launched himself at the mob, his rifle on full auto. The roar of the rifle drowned out the whine of the plasma cannons temporarily, before a sound like rain hitting zinc echoed through the space, as the rubber bullets dropped uselessly of their armour skins.

Dropping his rifle, Idimmu drew his pistols, custom-modified Desert Eagles with daggers fixed to their barrels. One always planned for contingencies.

**WWW**

Idimmu cursed as he slammed his pistol into the head of a droid, crushing the circuitry. He turned and slashed with his bayonet, the monomolecular edge cutting through steel and wire.

He stomped down with his feet, the cybernetic legs cracking through the metal skin of the downed droid, disabling it. The next one came on, and then the next, engaging him and Lady Raven. He had placed himself in a shielding position, to allow her a route of escape.

Just then, his chamber gave a click as his last round. In a smooth movement, he holstered them, before bringing his fists up in a fighting stance, feet shifting back and forth in a shuffle.

Hitting out with his elbows and fists, hardened bone and sinew met metal, denting it and drawing blood from his lacerated knuckles. With a hiss, he activated his pain nullifier, sending a mental pulse to the device implanted at the base of his skull..

Throughout his body, adrenaline coursed, as chemical nullifiers raced throughout his body, disrupting sodium ion channels, deadening the pain he felt from the countless lacerations and blows to his body.

Flipping back, he drew a distance between himself and the droids, lashing out with his deadly feet, a flurry of lightning crescent kicks and thundering roundhouses cracking the fracturing the metal limbs in the melee. A droid drew close, before it went flying, a reverse throw sending it barrelling into two more.

Just as suddenly, he realised with mounting horror that Raven had chosen to stay and fight, as he spotted her out of the corner of his eye. A second's distraction allowed a droid to unleash a blast point blank into his body core. Ceramic plate and cloth sizzling, a jumping roundhouse cracked its shell while a hooked kick tore of its head.

Kicking and lashing with his limbs, Idimmu fought to clear a space to Raven.

**WWW**

The Black Tiger swung his sabre staff in a violent arc, bisecting the droid, before impaling another one. Holding his sabre staff in one hand, he held a katana in the other, the nanotech blades glowed a brilliant blue as the nanomachines of the sword vibrated, causing the carbon molecules of the edges to move in a chainsaw-like motion.

He dodged, before lashing out his feet, decapitating a droid and fracturing the arm of another. His face inert beneath the visor, he elbowed another, ignoring the pain, before he shut down the nerves. He adjusted his heartbeat to higher levels, letting adrenaline and endorphins flood his body.

The droids were a minor nuisance, an inconvenience to his main goal of getting to Raven. She was his main priority, nothing more. Just then, a flash of alarm crossed his mind, as several streamlined droids unlike the others he had encountered barrelled across adjacent rooftops, heading in the direction of Raven. It was then, that he heard a cry for help over his radio connection with Idimmu, before a distant explosion brought his attention to the mob of droids heading for a ruined warehouse. Alarm flashed across his mind, before he suppressed it and made a running leap, heading for the site at top speed.

**WWW**

The Fedayeen droids linked into the network of the Slade-bots, downloading information about the threats they faced. As they bounded into the scene, they assessed their options, calculated their chances of success and shifted to combat readiness.

A human male in his mid 20's, of Asian descent, according to biometric readings, with cybernetic limbs, was engaged in melee combat with a significant number of droids. A fragile female human, suffering from lacerations and blood loss, with anomalous physiology, was using unseen and anomalous phenomena to move the Slade-bots in destructive ways. Similarly, anomalous phenomena seemed to shield her, visible as a black screen of force.

As they unleashed their acoustic cannons, the plasma cannons deemed 'overkill' due to the possibility of self destruction of the unit's themselves, a sudden assault to their rear threw them into momentary shock. 6 of their number had just been taken down in a quarter of a second.

Reorienting, they lost another 4, bringing their number to 13. A human male, moving with incredible speed, was tearing into them in a frenzy of bloodlust. Extruding blades from their feet, knees, hips, elbows and hands, they shifted to close combat mode, encircling the new enemy. Scans had shown a movement speed of 106 metres/second, or approximately 360 km/h.

A droid managed to block one blow, before a second, more powerful blow ripped through its processing core. A sudden jab and twist removed the power plant of another. Parrying a blow, a unit managed to drive a blade into the human male, the blade breaking upon contact with the armour skin. The human had slowed down slightly, physiological scans indicating a shift in biochemistry, before a renewed burst of speed.

Moving faster than any human should, the male twisted in midair before thrust kicking another droid, sending it crashing into the ground. The vector of the male was towards the injured female.

The female was an alpha-level threat, according to the Slade-bots. Given their lack of numbers due to the defence provided by the cyborg, and the sudden threat that had earned itself a beta-rating, a strategic victory could still be gained before annihilation of their grouping. Recordings of the human male would be sent back to the main processor for evaluation.

Evaluating their actions, the Fedayeen bots decided on a single course of action. As their remaining numbers were hacked apart, they overrode the Slade-bots, ordering a self-destruct. Simultaneously turning, they piled onto the alpha-level threat, shielded behind what was known to be psychokinetic force screens, they overwhelmed her, successive explosions and point blank blasts from the boron fusion guns resulted in self-destruction and slagging of the electronics due to intense radiation and heat. Extruded blades cut open a major artery along her thigh and arm, both on her right side.

Grappling her, given her propensity to phase, one unit held her. Twisting a steel beam around her, it threw her into the water, intent on drowning the girl. Preliminary analysis of injuries told of a high possibility of death, given the severed arteries and resulting blood loss. Given her unconscious state, she would ingest water into her lungs and proceed to drown, fulfilling the requirement of a victory.

Given that was resolved, they turned the attention to the remaining two people.

**WWW**

A shotgun blast blew open the chest cavity of the Slade-bot, before a birdarang sliced through a line of robots, crippling their mobility system. Starfire barrelled into them, her starbolts incinerating sensitive elctronics and scrambling sensors

In a few seconds, it was over. The police gunned down the remaining few droids, before assessing the situation.

Just as they breathed a sigh of relief, a loud explosion from the warehouse which was Raven's last location rocked them, causing them to stagger and cracking the glass windows of the surrounding warehouses.

**WWW**

Aziz and Idimmu were back to back, the blades slashing in glittering arcs as fought their way through the new droids, a league above the Slade-bots that Idimmu had just smashed.

Suddenly, two intact droids appeared in front of Idimmu, their boron fusion guns raised in preparation. Swift as a cobra, Aziz threw himself in front of Idimmu, his forearms closed together.

The resulting explosion threw the men back through a concrete wall, while the robots were bisected in half as a thrown sword cut through their processing cores and sliced open a reactor. The resulting explosion of the anti-matter within it flattened the area around them, destroying the remaining robots in a flash of atomic fire.

**WWW**

The Black Tiger reeled, a copper taste filling his mouth as he rose. The armour plating in his suit had absorbed the shrapnel and heat, while thermokinetic gel had helped to reduce the shock, absorbing the kinetic energy of the blast and the heat. The plates of X-Ionized depleted promethium had resisted the heat of the blast, while the Ruldaman bracers had absorbed and deflected much of the blast, which would have killed them. Gel leaked from several gashes in his armour, while the diamond mesh that covered his throat was melted and scorched in several places. Kevlar and Dyneema fabrics had brunt away, leaving bare patches of red and blotchy skin. His helmet was cracked and damaged, but otherwise its internal components had saved his hearing. The acoustic sensors had prevented his eardrums from bursting, but there was slight bleeding from his ear canals.

Two compound fractures of his ribs, lacerations along his neck, a deep gash on his hand. They would require stitches, possibly. A cut lip. Forearms and shins were unharmed, due to the Ruldaman crystal armour on them. His hair was singed. 2nd degree burns along the length of his shoulders and parts of his neck and chest. Left shoulder dislocated.

Standing and imposing order on his body, he refused to let it sway, fighting the sensation and shutting off the pain, reducing it to a minor buzz at the back of his mind, to remind himself to treat it. Walking steadily towards Idimmu, who stood in an exposed pipe, he helped him up, his raid vest torn and tattered, his entire body covered in dust. Scorch marks told of multiple plasma hits, while bubbling plates of armour told of a point blank shot glancing of the left oblique. Aziz chose not to comment on the smell that wafted from him.

"Where is Lady Raven?" was the first question from Idimmu's mouth. Idimmu had been better off , having been thrown through the wall into a sewer pipe, which was now virtually drained, the water flow and steam from the explosion acting to shield him from the brunt of it.

Aziz looked at him, before the image of Raven bound with steel cable and thrown into the sea flashed across his mind. Without a moment's hesitation, all his injuries forgotten, he turned and ran, boots slamming through debris as he pounded across the broken ruins and dove into the sea.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Proving Ground Part 4**

With powerful kicks from his legs and the steady strokes of his arms, Aziz descended into the harbour. The rebreather in his helmet was working well, filtering out the carbon dioxide and cycling the oxygen back in from the built-in supply. Osmotic gills at the cheeks would serve to draw oxygen from the water if he had to stay down longer.

The Jump City docks were situated at a location where the coast opened up into a deep, rocky gulf, where powerful current and tides fought for dominance, dragging out unsuspecting swimmers or divers into the open ocean. It was a naturally deep harbour, the shelf dropping to a depth of over 70 metres at a nearly vertical gradient.

It was also where the treated sewage of the city was released into the ocean, along with industrial waste and effluent from ships out a sea. This, of course, made it a naturally hazardous environment, filled with biological and industrial waste that circulated before flushing out to sea. Only the toughest organisms survived here.

Descending deeper into the murk, he let the powerful down-currents drag him to the seabed, his helmet automatically equalising the pressure. Already, at least 45 seconds had passed since she had been thrown into the sea, as much as he could gauge.

Ignoring the pain, he was suddenly lifted as the powerful tide dragged him and slammed his body against the concrete breakwater, winding him, the debris of sunken ships littering the floor. Besides being a deep harbour, it was also a scrapyard for ships, where they were sunk, if they were not worth the expense of salvaging.

Straining his eyes to see through the murk, he saw a movement, a large mass, further down from him, caught in a tangle of rotting wood and concrete pillars, the ruins of an oil rig. Letting the current drag him, estimating where Raven might be, he let himself drop even further. He gauged the depth at roughly 40 metres.

He swam towards it, noticing the seaweed growing among the tangle waving in the wild currents. Struggling against the tug of it, he swam down, hanging onto which surfaces were available. Just then, he noticed a face. **Raven**.

Inhaling deeply, he twitched his muscles, performing a Vasalva manoeuvre that equalised the pressure in his ear and nasal cavities, and unlatched the helmet. He could hold his breath while exerting himself for 5 minutes underwater, given his current injuries.

Water inundating his face, he took of his helmet and fitted it around Raven's neck, ripping off his neck armour and using it to cushion her neck and prevent chafing. Ignoring the sting of the salt water upon his eyes, he began to drag her from the metal frame imprisoning her, placing his arms around her chest in a vicelike grip and pulling, using the metal as leverage.

She had been relatively lucky, having been saved from further injury by the frame, which had cushioned her from the debris littering the seabed. Extricating her from it, he briefly tensed, before ripping off a twisted part of the steel, using up more of his strength.

Just then, the current gripped both of them and tore them from the debris, hurtling them deeper into the twisted forest of scrap metal and the skeletons of ships. Just as they collided with a forest of rusted metal, shaped into spikes by the effort of water and corrosion, he twisted, letting his dislocated shoulder take the full brunt of the collision.

Cruel barbs tore into him as he was dragged along the surface, the spikes slipping through the cracks in his armour and tearing into his flesh. Raven remained upfront, shielded by his body. Where any normal man would have screamed, he simply remained silent, his face never betraying what he felt, as he fought against the current, his lungs starting to burn with the need for air.

**WWW**

Robin watched the water, hoping against hope that Raven would somehow show up. Scattered along the dock, police were lighting the area, throwing searchlight around the sea, while an ambulance waited in the back.

The Customs Office was reporting no suspicious items, though several clerical errors had resulted in a shipment of frozen pork on a ship bound towards Saudi Arabia, stopping off at Gotham Harbour. The police had been insistent on tracking it however, given their tip off.

Beast Boy had turned into a dolphin, descending into the murk of the harbour in hope of find Raven. According to Idimmu, Aziz had dived into the harbour in search of Raven.

Since then, it had been an agonising seven minutes, counting from the time they had arrived here. That would roughly equal 9 minutes, with travelling time factored in. Robin had suppressed the ache that had come to his heart. Starfire had remained withdrawn, hugging herself. Cyborg was on the verge of panic, pacing in a circle, his fingers trembling slightly. He had been unable to track Raven's transponder, or Aziz's.

Yet, in his heart, Robin could not bring himself to think she was dead. She couldn't be. Maybe her demon blood allowed her to survive. He actively made himself relaxed, opening the bond that had so long been dormant, trying to sense her on the other side. Ever since that time, when she had linked to his mind, they had always been linked. Perhaps….

Starfire started to sob, as the police divers prepared to enter the sea. Talk of finding a body was audible, drifting to them on the wind. Robin became even more nervous, finding himself going to Starfire and holding her. Ever since Tokyo, he wasn't afraid to admit that he loved her, that she was the significant other in his life. He grabbed her hand, before she threw her arms around him, silencing her sobs in his shirt.

Turning to look at Idimmu, he saw him relaxed as he talked with the paramedics, sharing a cigarette. He didn't know what he felt. He was obviously someone who worked with Aziz, someone who shared the same mission. Perhaps he dealt with his nervousness differently. He didn't know. He held on to Starfire, suppressing the nervousness that he felt as he leaned onto her, and she on him, mutually supporting the other.

**WWW**

Idimmu thought of using the jetbikes, had even thought of calling Sophia to inform her, but decided against him. He would give Aziz a minute more. Aziz preferred to conceal their abilities and technology. Keep your resources hidden, and keep the enemy guessing.

As he listened to the paramedics, drawing in deeply from the Marlboro he held in his hand, he worried slightly about his friend. Never one to give up, he knew that Aziz had survived worse than this, if what Kassim told him was true. And it probably was.

He knew enough to guess that a lot of information was being concealed from him, and was wise enough not to question further. For a fact, that they had appointed Aziz to guard a superhero who had probably survived worse attacks was telling, and suspicious in itself.

A lot of information was concealed from him, but he knew enough to infer that great events were at stake. He also knew that his friend was quite possibly the most dangerous man in the world, and had warranted countermeasures by Sophia herself. Idimmu had suspected that she mad manoeuvred Anya into being close to the Black Tiger, to serve as an emotional check and countermeasure, for use as a possible hostage, should it come to that. Similarly, the Black Dragons Marine Elites were not just to counter threats to their private interests.

_Wheels within wheels within wheels. _Plans concealed and hidden within other secret plans, countermeasure and measure acting to balance the other. Idimmu knew this, but he chose to stay loyal. He trusted in people, not in principles or abstract causes. Life had given this situation, and he could _decide_ or _choose_. To _decide_ was to choose after _reasons and considerations_. To _choose_ was to take the option presented after _consideration_.

For Idimmu, it was simple. He chose.

**WWW**

Aziz rammed his katana into the concrete wall, fighting against the surge. His form was battered by waves, as he held his head above it. The current tugged at him, but he held on.

The water around him was misted with blood. Mostly his, but some of Raven's as well. He had sealed the cuts to her arteries with bioglue he carried to treat himself, sealing those at her left inner thigh, her left elbow and the back of her neck. They would require stitches, as the bioglue would hold for a few more minutes at most, as the salt water dissolved it. He felt bloody foam bubble from his mouth, the result of his fractured rib puncturing his lung, after a particularly strong wave had hit them and thrown them against a pillar.

Leveraging, he dragged the katana out and rammed it higher into the pillar, part of the breakwater system at the outer edge of the harbour. It was part of a pier, large pipes running to it, where they pumped out the waste heat water from the nearby power plant. The water was noticeably warmer here.

Dragging himself up, Raven draped over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, he continued to carry her up. She was unconscious, with a weak pulse, but breathing. No broken bones or head injuries.

She was still wearing his helmet, ensuring protection of her head. As he rammed his fist through the concrete, gripping a steel rod within for support, he dragged himself up, kicking his feet in to create holds for himself. Below, the powerful currents swirled around the base.

A few more meters, and he would reach the top of the breakwater pier. But even as he climbed, a wave of vertigo overtook him. He suppressed it, gauging it to be due to blood loss, and the fact that his system was fighting off the microbes and other pathogens within his body, from the numerous open wounds along his back.

He didn't worry - he had survived worse. He had been trained by the Black Tigers, he had survived the Black Dragon training, he had survived the Fremen, he had survived the worst Sardaukar training possible and he had survived one and a half millennia of constant trials and hardship. This was _nothing_.

Ensuring she was safely and securely in place, Aziz hauled himself up rapidly in a burst of energy, after ensuring a secure grip. Gripping the wet concrete walkway of the pier, he deposited her on the pier, taking off his wet shirt and squeezing it dry, letting the blood and seawater run from it.

The wind whipped into him, his body shivering in response, the muscles twitching to warm themselves. Gashes covered the length of his back, while the skin was wrinkled from the immersion in water. Dropping his shirt, he placed it over Raven. Her safety and health was the priority. He was expendable.

Plucking a flare from the pockets of his pants, he lit it, the magnesium flaring brightly. In the distance, the wail of sirens and flash of police lights lit up the dock.

WWW

Beast Boy leapt onto the dock, grief clutching at the edges of his heart. He ignored it, quashing it beneath a surge of anger. Anger at whom, he didn't know.

He saw Starfire holding onto Robin, her face concealed by his shoulder. Her body was shaking with sobs, as she tried to prevent herself from breaking down, faced with the possibility of the death of her friend.

BB hadn't found a trace. As a dolphin, he had swum against the powerful currents to investigate the seabed, navigating through a hazardous obstacle course at the bottom. He'd then switched to a shark form, sensing for any blood or electrical activity in the water. He had followed it, sensing a familiar trail of blood that led into the open oceans, mixed with another that must have belonged to the Black Tiger.

Just then, he saw a pier light up with the glare of a flare, at the outer edge of the harbour. Connected to land by a narrow granite peninsula that jutted out to it, a figure was holding it steady.

Robin felt something at the back of his mind, and as he reached out for it, he yelled in surprise and relief: "RAVEN!"

Robin, Starfire and Cyborg turned to it, Cyborg zooming in to see who it was. It was the Black Tiger. At his side, a mound of wet cloth laid, violet hair exposed to the world. Slowly, relief filled their heart, and Cyborg turned away, visibly emotional, as his one organic eye began to tear.

From his place on the roof, Idimmu zoomed in with his contacts, seeing Aziz hold the flare high. He had been about to get on his jetbike and head out to the harbour. A smile crossed his face. Mounting it, the jet lifted, before he piloted it to the pier.

**WWW**

Raven opened her eyes. Someone was shining a light into them. She was in a strange place. She felt weak, her mind sluggish and needles of pain radiating from her leg and arm.

She turned her head, looking at the person to her left. Someone was holding her hand. Starfire. Beside her was a paramedic fussing over her. She tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed her down. Cyborg. She saw someone sitting down, unruly hair sticking out in all directions. _Robin_. She reached out to him, felt a veritable tsunami of relief and a jumble of emotions inundate her. She put up her barriers, unable to deal with it. At her feet, Beast Boy stared at her. Was it a trick of the light, or were his eyes moist?

She vaguely remembered a crushing pressure, pain, a blur of images, water all around her. She remembered someone embracing her, a wash of sensations, a great force slamming her, something easing the pressure, making her safe. Just then, she felt someone inject her with something, and she began to fall into a deep sleep.

**WWW**

"She was lucky. Her arteries and veins along her left elbow, left inner thigh and neck were cut open, but were sealed long enough to allow the body to clot and seal them. No brain damage of any sort, aside from a minor concussion. She's a pretty lucky girl, all told. Not many people could survive out here in these waters. They're pretty rough. As for any possible diseases, we'll be putting her on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics for the next few days, just to clear out her system. All the glass has been removed as well, so there's no chance of more cuts."

"Anything else doctor?"

"Yeah. We also found traces of saliva on those wounds. The thing is it wasn't normal saliva. The saliva we got somehow had an extremely high level of immune system cells, macrophages, T-cells, everything. These were very active cells, and they are one of the major reasons your friend managed to survive what she did. Very few pathogens managed to enter her system because of it. Also, there was some very sophisticated bioglue used on her that helped to minimise blood loss. Nothing you'd find on the market. You Titans have some very good technology.

"Ok, thanks. So, when can we take her back home?"

"Today. Just remember to make her take bed rest for the next 4 days. I don't want her doing anything strenuous that could exhaust her. She's in a sensitive state."

Cyborg nodded affirmatively, before helping up Raven. Using him as support, she staggered with him to the lift, down the ward and to the car. Jump City General was one of the best places to get treatment, with extensive surgical suites and stores of the latest pharmaceuticals, as well as competent medical staff. For the Titans, all their medical treatment was paid for by the city authorities, in appreciation for their efforts.

Taking her down to the car, Cyborg looked at the time. 1 am. It had been a long night for everyone. Turning on the engine, he watched as Raven laid herself out in the back, her drowsiness overtaking her, as she drifted off to sleep.

**WWW  
**

Aziz and Idimmu maintained their stealth configuration, their bodies flat to the seats, their engines muffled and thermal signature suppressed. As far as a radar operator would have been concerned, he had just detected a sparrow or other small bird. Their jets were whisper quiet, their electrochromatic panels projecting images that blended with the sky, while plasma stealth absorbed radar waves, microwaves and some visual radiation, reducing the signature far above what passive mode achieved.

As they neared the hill, they powered down to passive mode. Even then, the midnight blue blended against the inky sky. Entering the warehouse compound that was their base, they descended into the shaft, disguised as part of the ventilation system, and sealed against human or animal entry.

As they landed and exited to the operations centre, Idimmu looked Aziz up and down. He was in bad shape. Gel mixed with blood as it bled from his armour, the plates were exposed and scorched from the intense heat. Rivulets of seawater ran down from his body. Bloody foam came from his mouth, though it had reduced in the past hour.

As soon as Raven had been deposited, they had left, refusing treatment from the paramedic, who had openly stared in shock at the deep gashes and lacerations to Aziz's body.

"Man Kian, call KS, and tell him to bring his medikit" rasped Aziz. Idimmu was amazed that he was still standing. Taking off his vest and webbing, he deposited it in a corner of the garage, which contained a Land Rover, armoured to resist conventional arms. His own car, he used it to transport Sophia at times. Clad only in his camouflage pants and wearing a mesh shirt of black cotton, one could see it concealed a trim, athletic build, toned abdominal muscle visible beneath.

Aziz turned his mind inward, as he set his muscles to slacken, before wrenching his joint back into place with the action of muscles and the aid of his uninjured arm. The nerves were in place. Good. No nerve damage.

Removing his suit, he let it drop, taking off his gear, depositing his swords in place and his collapsible staff in his weapons rack. He placed the bioglue capsule and plastic explosive separately, before finally stripping down to his boxers.

What was beneath the armour was revealed, a solid frame that was trim and wiry, with whipcords of extremely defined muscle visible beneath every surface possible. Lean, muscular legs with developed calves and thighs supported a body that was lean and slender, possessing well-defined back muscles and 4 pairs of abdominal muscle exposed to the open. His arms were similarly developed, with forearms that were dense with muscle fibres and fibrous tendons, flexing with each movement. All of his body in perfect symmetry with the other, each part proportionate.

All the way up to a face that spoke of a truly confusing heritage. Maori features clashed with Chinese, the grey eyes of Pashtun blood reinforced by Irish ancestry. Persian, Indian and Arab features gave him his body, tall and lean with little body fat, covered by tanned bronze-brown skin with a hint of mocha, betraying West African and Spanish ancestry. Malay, German, Scottish, Russian, Korean, Japanese, Javanese, Tajik, Scottish, Dutch and Scandinavian blood ran in his genes, revealed in different light. One moment, he looked Indian, the next, somewhat Irish, perhaps Polish.

He was a handsome individual, with almond-shaped, slanted eyes that were the betrayal of the presence of East Asian blood. An oval shaped face contained lips that were a balance between a slash and fullness, telling women of a harmony that promised ferocity and sensuality combined.

Kan Seng came down, opening his kit, as he prepared an analgesic. Aziz signalled negatively, and called for him to proceed. Looking at the numerous gashes and deep lacerations, Kan Seng prepared to stitch it up. Turning his head back to look at the mural, Aziz fell into a trance, dropping into the psychokinesthetic awareness that allowed him to control the biochemistry, muscle-nerve action and physiology of his body, as he shifted protein chains around, reacted certain chemicals to accelerate the action, called for clotting, destabilised the cell structure of cholera bacterium by introducing sodium in to react with chloride ions.

But it wasn't enough. He needed it to go faster. Reluctantly, almost with fear, or as close as he could come to it, he fell into a deeper trance, falling towards it.

As Kan Seng finished stitching up the arms, and bandaging the burns, he got to work on the broken rib and collapsed lung. Just then, a tracery of glowing lines began to form on Aziz's body. It was a beautiful tapestry that drew him to look at it, momentarily stopping his work to admire it fully. It persisted for a full 3 seconds, before it was gone. An ambigram, it had been a mix between the Tao symbol and several other things, primary among them the ambigram of a single word, visible to him as English, yet not, in an utterly familiar yet alien script. _Ulthaj_.

Scanning Aziz's body with his portable MRI, a quick inhalation betrayed shock. His lung was perfectly intact, healed of any damage, while his ribs were slightly less fractured. He hadn't realised Az could do that. Still, there were the ribs, and he would fix those. Taking out his bandages, he prepared to set them and put them in a cast.

**WWW**

Aziz checked in on Anya, watching as she breathed in deeply. To either side of her, 5 mounds of fur, bone and muscle slept, the dogs surrounding their mistress in a heap, the Alsatian, Darky, paddling his legs in the air as if he was swimming.

The female Ridgeback, Mona, had chosen the prime spot, curling around her mistress's feet to keep them warm and to keep close to her. As Aziz stepped into the room, a slight growl emanated from her as she scented the intruder, before realising who it was and lapsing back into sleep.

Anya whimpered slightly, as she ran from something dark, in the recesses of her mind. A muffled cry rose from her throat, before Aziz held on to her trembling hand, softly smoothing her hair and flicking away the strands that fell onto her face.

As he pulled his hand back, a small glint of tenderness flickered in his eye, like a small candle light, before it extinguished itself beneath a barrier.

Then he heard the whisper…..

"_Papa."_

He recoiled violently, his whole body trembling as he lost control of his muscles for half a second, before it was gone, once again, a diamond will imposing order on the physical body. His face was once again neutral. Hard eyes stared at her, a minor amount of moisture filming it, having been released by lacrimal glands involuntarily. One word echoed in his mind, memories stretching back to his time as a child pressing in on him.

He suppressed it, but never forgot the word. A title of damnation, a gift and curse that tied him inexorably to the Ulthaj, and denied him his humanity, the one thing he was terrified of losing. _Love_. It's essence, in all its forms. _Love_.

_Karas'thy Raksa._

**WWW**

Ling held on to Kassim, cuddling deeper into his embrace. Around them, the smell of musk filled the room, his as much as hers. She placed her head at the hollow of his neck, breathing in deeply and smelling him, smiling.

She rose up, letting her long hair drop down to caress his face, waking him from his deep slumber. He was a virile lover, with plenty of stamina, and she enjoyed their intimacy. They shared a physical intimacy as much as an emotional intimacy. Then again, they had been in a relationship before, before breaking it off. Then again, a human would have been horrified at the age difference. She was just over six centuries, though not as old as Sophia. Kassim was more along the age of 90 years, a young man in his prime by the reckoning of his race.

His eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him, staring deep into her lovers eyes. There had been a time when she had loved him deeply, though it was more of a deep friendship now, rather than a lovers bond.

"Your performance was above average last night" she recounted to him, before seeing a harlequin grin fill his face.

"That's not what I heard. Something about 'great lover' and 'love god incarnate', somewhere in between all the moans."

"I confess to that, and rephrase myself. Your performance was _outstanding_."

"Only outstanding?"

She stroked his face, and their talk drifted to more formal matters, as she held on to him.

"Ling, I don't understand, but if we have all the resources of OCI behind us, why not just use them to turn this world around in the span of a few years rather than over generations? It'd be so much easier. Why are we restricting ourselves? We could have 100 times the military power we have now, we could wipe out the League of Assassins in an instant and we could simply engineer the life form that's wanted. Hell, you could bring in an entire army of Black Dragons, or even the Black Tiger Society. You know that your program could be achieved in an instance, instead of maintaining this…masquerade!"

"That's where you're wrong Kas. You Sardaukar have no appreciations for the long view or subtlety of things sometimes. Have you heard of dependency syndrome? It's what we're trying to avoid with this world. Humans have a tendency to become reliant on religions, on external sources of power beyond their control, mostly because they are afraid to take responsibility for themselves. We're avoiding that, minimising our presence here, to avoid any such dependency arising. It's bad enough as it is. Besides, we have the power in this situation, and those with power need not use force, simply because _force_ implies _change_ and a lack of actual _power _to dictate the situation. We aim for _transformation_."

"Hence the restriction on the power used and the OCI presence?"

"Yes. We maintain a façade as a powerful corporation because it suits us. We have enough wealth to buy out this planet a million times over, if we were to use the full extent of our resources. But, we maintain our presence on this world to a restricted size, using Microsoft as a benchmark, so as to avoid undue attention. We already attract enough through the machinations of my dear sister."

They talked late into the night, holding each other, like the old friends and lovers they were. Yet, they didn't realise that they held a weapon that was more effective than any, were they to hurt the Black Tiger. Love.

**WWW**

Rayaan perceived it all, stretching his awareness to encompass these multiple points of view. In the limitless void, in the seams of this universe, he waited and watched. He saw the past, present and future collide, the timestreams coruscating in brilliant colours and energies, forces interacting and struggling for dominance, laws broken, warp and remade. A balance of one or twos, sometimes even threes. A harmony of multitudinal numbers that flooded in endless rhythm and song.

Beside him, a being greater than even he appeared. Without words, he acknowledged it.

_Khallusk._

_**Child**_

_Do you know what they say about gods and deities Khallusk? They say that we can be comprehended by them, using their pathetic supernatural creatures as a standard to benchmark us. They seek to impose their understanding on us, when we are so beyond their comprehension._

**_You are within their scope of comprehension Youngling, because you choose to be, and because Rugal Al-Ilham limits you. You were raised that way by Rugal Al-Ilham. And Rugal Al-Ilham, noblest of many, was once mortal himself. Human even._**

_They say that there are two ways to understand us; Tap dancing and love. Tap dancing, I can understand. A constant rhythm of chaos and disorganised sounds, from which comes order, with a subtle mathematical harmony to it. They say it is like'God'. Love; a function of acceptance, involving sacrifice, a sacrifice of judgement, of perceptions._

**_You are not mature enough yet. Only a million years as humans measure time you are. You do not comprehend us._**

_Well, you should know well enough. All the life in the Omniverse, from the highest order, from the numerous, diverse humans and humanoids, all life, all sapience, it comes from you. Down to the smallest subatomic awareness, they all come from you. Parent of life and sapience, the other Creator from before the Omniverse. Many titles you have. Perhaps I should call you 'father'. You are, after all, the God of Abraham, aren't you?_

_**True enough. Their understanding is limited, and still is. Yours too. You know who your father is youngling. I will leave, and remember I know all. Not as much as the Ulthaj, but I know all. I see the path, and there is decimation. As for your mortal brother, I say no more. The Ulthaj forbid it. As for that, I see Rugal has told you of one of my aspects.**_

_As they forbid my father from speaking further on my parents? As they forbid my father, Rugal the Great, from saving and nurturing me?_

**_The Ulthaj have their own reasons child. And I suggest you do not question them. For any being that is beyond your comprehension and power, you should not confront them. As you did once to me, you will be restrained again. There are aspects and dimensions to us that not even the Supreme Omniversal Being understands, and we are from before this Omniverse. Once you have transversed the Gate of the Ulthaj, once you have seen it like your mortal brother has, then, perhaps…_**

Silence reigned then in the eternal void, as the ancient Omniversal Elder God left Rayaan alone in the void.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Initiation**

OOC: I realize I've been paying a lot of attention to my OCs, but that is just to set them up for later. I'll be paying greater focus to the core Titans team from there, and forming the relationships for the story. If you can tell, it's set to be a long story with plenty of arcs, so rest assured, it hasn't reached any end yet. Also, the story is dynamic and evolving, so if you suggest new elements, I'll probably consider it and when I add it, I'll give credit.

And here's a recommendation for a good fic; The White Rose by Jessemudflap. It's excellent, not good, but for a guy like me; a bit sappy, and at times unrealistic, given that I have some understanding of crisis situations and human nature (I was in the military for 2 years, and before that lived by myself for 2 years). Same goes for a lot of stories. Hell, my stories aren't perfect, though I try to aim for that. If you want my stories to improve, reviewing would help.

So here's some credit to the Black Mage for providing fodder for thought. And a teaser; Cellburst returns. Oh, and watch out for Batman, the Joker, vampires and pedophiles galore….

**WWW**

Raven woke up in shock, a cry escaping her mouth, before it cut short. She was safe. She was back in her own room. She looked at her clothes, black linen pajamas that she usually wore when not on duty, or when her robes were in the washing.

She stared at her arms, saw the bandages swaddling the injured areas, felt the stitches pulling tight the wounded flesh. She touched her neck and forehead, feeling the abraded skin, minor wrinkling from the seawater.

Just then, a rapid knocking on her door and an urgent voice called out to her. "Raven! Are you all right? Raven?"

Who was that? She tried to jog her mind, groggy from the medicine and the ordeal of the night before. Was it Cyborg? Beast Boy? Robin? The voice sounded so familiar…

Robin. That was it. Robin.

**WWW**

Robin was about to ram the door down when it opened. Leaning as he was against it, he lost his balance and tripped, landing flat on the floor on his stomach, winding him and injuring his dignity.

He stared up into the eyes of Raven, who was leaning against the wall. A slight smirk crossed her usually disinterested face as she looked at Robin lying on the floor

"Hey Boy Blunder."

"Heh. Um, I heard you scream and came running, you know, just to check."

"Good job too. Anyway, what happened last night? I can't remember much. I know I was somehow thrown into the sea, got woken up by the paramedic, then ended up here. Care to fill in the gaps?"

"Sure, but come down for breakfast. You need any help walking or anything?"

"No. I'll be fine. Just go back. I'll handle myself."

Once he'd gotten up and left, Raven locked the room and changed. As she slipped out of her pyjamas, she hissed, the cotton rubbing against raw skin. She'd have to heal that up a bit herself. Standing only in her underwear before the mirror, she examined herself.

Bandages and plasters covered several places across her body, a large plaster covering a particularly deep gash on her arm. Her inner thigh throbbed with a dull pain, the bandage preventing her from seeing the full extent of damage, though she could sense it was bad, judging from the length of it.

Putting on her leotard, she exited her room, levitating herself to the kitchen. Her nerves felt slightly rattled from yesterday. Obviously, her bodyguard hadn't done his work very well, seeing as to how she had sustained so many injuries last night.

As she entered the kitchen, Starfire and BB, who were eating, jumped up. Before she knew it, a Tamaranean with the strength to crush a car rammed into her, engulfing her in a powerful bear hug that knocked the wind from her.

"Oh, Friend Raven. How glorious you are up and alive again! We thought that you had become one with the dodo!"

"Star…"

"Oh, Friend Raven, should we not go to the mall of shopping? I have heard Robin mention retail therapy, and how it is done at the mall of shopping. Perhaps we should try this cure?"

"Starfi….."

"In celebration of your survival, I shall make a Pudding of Survival! I shall…"

"Star, you're crushing me!" Raven croaked with the final bit of air in her lungs. She felt the pain decrease as Starfire released her and apologised hurriedly. Beast Boy meanwhile, was chortling with laughter, at the sight of the dishevelled Raven fighting for air, as the apologetic Starfire patted her back. Things were back to normal.

**WWW **

Last night had vastly changed Robin's and Cyborg's opinion on their new ally. If anything, the fact that he had selflessly risked his life to save one of their own had impressed upon them his value.

"Look Robin, after last night, we know this guy is tough. I mean, remember when we reached the pier. The guy was dripping blood all over, and he refused to leave or accept any treatment until Raven had been dealt with first. Hell, he was in worse shape than her."

"Yeah, I know Cy. Maybe…maybe we've been unfair to him. I mean, it's not as if none of us doesn't have dark pasts, or dark powers. Look at Raven. Hell, look at me. But, we're still going to watch him."

"Anyway, you want to make it official, and invite him onto the team?"

"Yeah sure, just make sure you got the initiation prepared."

"Heh heh heh…"

In the dim corridor, the duo grinned evilly, as they rubbed their hands together in glee. Yes. As soon as they were able to, they would carry out the worst trial any Titan had to face.

_The Gauntlet of Shame_

**WWW**

Raven's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the recording Cyborg had made of last night. She couldn't believe she'd been in such bad shape. What surprised her even more was the fact that Aziz had still been standing when they had found them.

The video quality was good enough that she could see the tortured movement of his lungs, the bloody foam coming from his mouth. Truth be told, he looked to be in even worse shape than she was. Luckily for her, she had only suffered a minor concussion, with multiple contusions and lacerations, and two major lacerations at her thigh and arm, where her arteries had been sliced open.

"So, you're saying that he dived in after me, pulled me out and swam through conditions that even the police divers avoid during their operations?"

"Yeha, pretty much" was the answer from Beast Boy.

"So, I guess this changes the teams stand on him?"

This time, it was Robin. "Yup, he's in."

"Just like that" Raven stated. The antagonism had dissipated greatly, by that single act. He had proven himself. Even though the shipment had slipped through, and their mission was a failure, they had gained a teammate. Overall, Raven felt that somehow, the scales had balanced themselves in the end.

**WWW**

Kassim approached Aziz, preparing to tell him the news. As of one week from then, he would be reassigned to oversee operations in Sudan and Iraq, managing and directing the Mendes Defence Decisions operations there to covertly aid US forces. Not that he was pro-American, but he was simply following orders that Sophia Mendes had given, and it benefited them to help the Americans.

Meanwhile, Rahesh had been assigned to oversee Afghanistan and Pakistan, to hunt and suppress the numerous terrorist and insurgent cells in the region, liquidating any if he found them. Similarly, Xun Ming, more commonly called Kang, had been assigned to Bangladesh. All their operations were aimed at suppressing and liquidating threats to the stability of the region, and prepare for the formation of a Greater Indian Commonwealth, spanning India, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Iran, as well as stabilise and moderate the situation in Iran.

Aiding them in their operations, they had been assigned the first few Black Dragon Marines, to expedite the process and provide training to local agents.

They had been chosen, because of their integrity as the core group closest to Sophia Mendes, and the ones most loyal to her. Achyuta had overall responsibility for South Asia, the Middle East and Africa, with Ying Ling responsible for East Asia and South East Asia, while Sophia had responsibility for global operations.

At times, Kassim worried about Aziz. He was the closest thing to a best friend and confidante that Aziz had, and both of them knew it, though Aziz was the first to deny any form of attachment. Sometimes, Kassim wasn't even sure, though Ling had told him enough about Az to infer the hidden. Removing them from the harmony that formed a web of influence over Aziz was intentional on Sophia Mendes's part, he suspected. She was probably following Onraed's orders, and no doubt these were influenced by their worry about him. Aziz was intelligent enough to know all this, and know the cause, and he wasn't commenting on it. The only people remaining in Jump City while the rest were assigned out were Lau Kan Seng, Arrio 'Crazy Tiger' Wong and Idimmu alias Liao Man Kian.

**WWW**

Sophia Mendes. If anything, she was perhaps the ultimate pragmatist. She dealt with reality as it was, and not the various interpretations of it held by people. A quality found in her foster brother, and one she respected. For the plan to work, the means justified the ends, should it come to that, and nothing, except perhaps orders from higher up, could possibly stop her from executing it. Moral imperatives were a luxury that she could not afford.

She needed countermeasures for the Black Tiger, and deploying her core team of personnel worldwide and keeping only Kan Seng, Arrio and Idimmu around to counterbalance Aziz and form a family unit of sorts was not enough. Anya, whom she was fond of herself, was a powerful attachment, for the simple reason that she was becoming the daughter he treasured, but she had to have a network to influence him, and somehow direct his actions, should the need arise.

Aziz would follow Sophia's orders to the letter, because of their charge. He was an extremely responsible person. Still, while he had never betrayed them, nothing could be allowed to affect the plan negatively. The costs were too high.

What she was doing was forming a contingency, should the need arise to control him. While he had never given reason to doubt him, Halgur had marked him a wildcard, for reasons she could not fathom. As it was, he was one the best agents, and was the most efficient and effective of the resources she had available. He was a trained killer, utterly ruthless and without qualms when he had to be. A great asset.

With his pending membership in the Titans, they would provide a new family unit for him to attach himself to. While he was more than capable of surviving as a lone wolf, in fact thriving as a lone wolf, he was also a person who required attachments, whether or not he admitted it to himself. A basic human need, the requirement for companions, and one she could manipulate.

He was tremendously strong, capable of enduring great loneliness for decades on end, but ultimately, his emotions and intelligence and discipline were his strengths and also vulnerabilities, should one manoeuvre carefully.

As for Rayaan, he was observing still, and would only come to this world much later on. Somehow, she sensed that his involvement would come sooner than expected.

**WWW**

Aziz sat down on the chair, enjoying the sensation of wind on his skin. So, most of them were going to be placed overseas. Kassim had told him. He felt something stir within him, but chose not to identify it, as it slipped through a crack in his armour. He reduced himself to his no-mind state, immediacy of the moment overtaking everything else. So his suspicions were true then. Sophia was pushing him closer to the Titans. So be it, if it allowed him to carry out his mission well. Everything else was secondary.

Just then, his cell phone rang. It was the one whose number he'd given to the Titans. Picking it up, caller ID identified it as them. He answered it, receiving the call from them. It was Robin.

A few minutes later, a faint smile crossed his face. He had been accepted. Good. His actions had cost him injury, but the cost had been worth it. He was now better positioned to oversee Lady Raven's protection. Beneath the black vest he wore, the bandages shifted against his skin. It would take a few more days to fully heal, but he would be back to full fighting condition by then.

**WWW**

A full week later, he went to the tower, hauling a duffel bag with most of his items. Arrio and Idimmu would see to the running of daily operations of his business, while he could concentrate on the more immediate business at hand, and pursue some of his own activities, now that he had some spare time.

He would not abandon his regular patrols, as they helped him connect with the common man on the streets. It was rewarding to deal with common criminals, almost as much as it was defeating supervillains who were just pathetic in their attempts at global domination. If there was any potential enemy he respected, it was Ras Al Ghul and his League of Assassins, or the Society of Ahriman. Now, those were competent organisations.

Truth be told, he felt a certain fondness for this city, after at least a year of living here and pursuing his agenda against the organised crime syndicates. They were disorganised, no longer a force to worry about.

Stepping down from the jetbike in the garage, his own one painted with burning flames against midnight blue, his military-issue backpack filled with personal items and toiletries, his three duffel bags filled with either clothes, gear or weapons. His own bunker base had been locked down, most of his personal information and assets placed there, while Arrio and Idimmu would maintain the operations of the restaurant and nightclub. Rukt was safely sheathed at his side, warded and under control.

Stepping into the escalator, it brought him to the main atrium of the Titans Tower. Fluidly, he placed a foot ahead of him, stepping into his new home.

**WWW**

Cyborg waited gleefully as Aziz entered the living room. Beside him, Beast Boy suppressed a chuckle, while Raven readied the camera. Robin's face was a neutral mask, while Starfire waited nearby, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

The minute they caught sight of him, they approached him, as Starfire caught up their newest member in a powerful hug.

"Oh Friend Tiger, I am so glad that you are now a member of the team. Welcome. In celebration of this, I shall make my Pudding of Friendship"

The eyes of the Titans widened in horror at the mention of the pudding. Previous experience of Starfires Tamaranean cuisine had led them to conclude that it was to be avoided at all costs, for the sake of their health and sanity.

Shifting briefly, Aziz felt the pressure ease as she released him from the hug. His face was unreadable as ever, before he decided to ease communication with them. His face twitched into a faint smile, the corners of his eyes tensing in a rare, genuine smile of happiness. It was one of the few instances he could smile genuinely, for Starfire's hug was one of the few instances of positive body contact he had experienced from someone not close to him, for Starfire was just that, warm, generous and spontaneous, and perhaps her greatest asset, was her ability to warm hearts.

Sensing something amiss, he looked to Raven, who gave a small grin at him. He bowed his head in respect, having seen her reaction to his genuflecting or other ostentatious displays, and chose to preserve her dignity, given his concern for her welfare. Glancing at Beast Boy, he noticed the suppressed emotion beneath. He was trying not to laugh. Something was about to happen.

It was then, that he saw it.

**WWW**

The group examined him up and down, before a thick silence settled on them. Beast Boy was the first to break. A flood of laughter infected the entire group, spreading to Cyborg, before infecting Starfire, who howled in unparalleled glee. Even the usually stoic Raven was seen to be shaking with suppressed laughter beneath her cloak. Finally, the reserve of Robin broke, his loud guffaws filling the room.

"I do not suppose this is my Titans uniform?" Aziz asked with a straight face. At this point, the laughter escalated to beyond hysterical.

"Pink…tutu….." was all they could get from the incoherent BB, while Cyborg didn't even attempt to answer, simply laughing even harder as he rolled on the floor. Robin was laughing so hard that tears dropped from his eyes, unable to stop himself. Starfire and Raven were holding on to each other, Raven's body shaking with uncharacteristic mirth, while Starfire was laughing throatily, unable to stop.

**WWW**

Several minutes of hysterical laughter later, Starfire brought out her Pudding of Friendship, as the others eyed it warily. By now in his normal uniform, without the helmet or any pink tutu, he stared at the gelatinous mass, unsure of how to react. Was it some sort of test?

He glanced around at all of them, before looking at Starfires expectant face. Reaching out with his hands, he scooped his first bite into his mouth, all eyes on him. What reaction would he give? His face remained utterly tranquil as he took the first bite, the pudding exploding in its full, odious flavour within his mouth.

Without missing a beat, the Black Tiger continued to shovel the pudding into his mouth, as the Titans around him gaped, their eyes wide with shock. Starfire herself was ecstatic. Finally, she had found a human that appreciated her cooking.

Finishing the dish, Aziz personally thought that it was among the strangest dishes he had ever eaten in his life, and was far more edible than eating rotting flesh, though comparable in taste. He looked around at the stunned looks the Titans were giving him, noticing a glint of respect in Robin's eyes.

Cyborg slowly and almost with reverence, reached out to pat him on the back and shake his hand. Anyone who could endure eating her pudding truly deserved to be on the team.

Handing him a new communicator, to replace the previous one that had nearly been denied to him, Robin reached out a hand in friendship.

"Tiger, welcome to the Titans."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Authors Notes: **Big thanks to Black Mage for his work in editing and beta reading the document. Enjoy the story people.I'm being careful to avoid some Mary Sue/Gary Stu type situation,as I hate those sort of stories,but its a long story in which the actions of Raven, Robin and the Titans are intimately tied with the OC.As well, there is some tie-in with the Justice League/JLU later on. Most of this is based largely on a mixture of comics canon, the animated series and my own work.Enjoy. If anyone is interested in doing some fanart,feel free to drop me a line.**  
**

**Joke of Despair** **Part 1  
**

Raven rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, almost at the point of anger. In the past four weeks, the integration of the Black Tiger into the Titans had been anything _but_ smooth.

His interactions with her were always tinged with a reverence bordering on religious fervour. He was overtly enigmatic, not revealing much about his past. In a way, she felt he was a kindred spirit, matching her intense desire for privacy. The earlier aura of peril he had was gone, hidden beneath an indifferent veneer.

In its place was a stoic, indifferent individual who watched with piercing eyes; cold and aloof with brief moments of warmth to ease communication at times, or when he felt it required reciprocation. Still, the memory of the earlier experiences and impressions lingered. He was keeping his distance from all of them.

Somehow, he had ended up joining the girls in meditation, often simply sitting on the floor, while the girls levitated, engaged in a companionable and tranquil silence that he seemingly enjoyed.

However, his interactions with Robin were anything _but_ peaceful, at least from Robin's end. He got along well enough with Cyborg, often acting more mature than he seemed. He possessed a hard coil of maturity that shocked them, if anything.

He surprisingly got along with Beast Boy, laughing at his jokes and even engaging in stank-ball, and his patience was otherworldly, merely shrugging off even the worst pranks that Beast Boy played on him. And even if the pranks did get their target, he simply accepted it. However, when it had come to training, Robin's competitive nature knew no bounds.

Robin, rigorously trained by Batman in both combat and non-combat disciplines, himself one of the finest martial artists _par excellence_ in the world, possibly matched or exceeded only by the Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon and Lady Shiva, was an expert Escrima fighter, as well as a master in aikido, though he had learnt numerous other martial disciplines, namely Kyokushin Karate, Hapkido, Tai Chi, Muay Thai and Judo. For his age, he was an incredibly dangerous opponent, and his skills combined with his acrobatic agility and ability to perform a quadruple somersault, one of only 3 people known to do so, as well as possessing peak athletic strength, stamina, agility and endurance for his age, synergised to make him an opponent few could match, and allowed him to punch well above his weight.

He'd been able to hold out for a limited time against Deathstroke, himself a veteran assassin and master combatant who had defeated even Batman in unarmed combat, by virtue of his enhanced physical prowess. As for his mental skills, he was a proficient linguist, having had the finest education as Bruce Wayne's ward, speaking with fluency in English, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Mandarin and Cantonese, and some knowledge of Romany and the alien language of Tamaran. He was also a brilliant and experienced strategist with superlative leadership skills, the Titans many victories and their commitment to him a testament to them.

The Black Tiger was a mystery, as enigmatic as they came. From what he had disclosed, and what they had seen, he was a powerful combatant able to take on multiple opponents numbering up to twenty simultaneously, either unarmed or with a variety of weapons. He was capable of controlling his autonomic and physiological functions, as well as his internal biochemistry.

His physiology was tuned to be extremely efficient, with a resting heart rate of 42, a display of just how physically fit he was, with agility and acrobatic ability on par with Robin, and he'd exhibited the skills of a mental calculator similar to Alexander Craig Aitken as well as a highly photographic memory, with fluency in Farsi, French, Urdu, Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese, Hindi, Malay, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Tagalog and Thai, those which he had chosen to disclose. Similarly, his reaction time was in the range of milliseconds, the slowest time they'd recorded being 20 milliseconds or 0.002 seconds, the human average time being 0.2 seconds, as well as an aggregate speed well over the human norm, clocked at 30 metres/second at one point, with an ability to boost himself to higher speeds of 106 m/s for short periods.

His personal fighting style was fluid, adaptable and practical, compared to the dynamic, airborne style evinced by Robin. His own style displayed dashes of Tukong Moosul, Krav Maga, Hapkido and Lethwei with other martial styles, blending them in a fast, evasive style that favoured distances, with vicious kicks from a distance and powerful knee strikes and throws at close quarters. This, combined with an extreme pain threshold, made him a horrifically powerful opponent.

One thing Cyborg knew was that he was holding back, both mentally and physically, as a conscious action, judging by the actions he'd taken, which Raven had agreed with. She couldn't help but sense there was more to him than just that, what he displayed. He was an ocean, and there was an abyss concealed within.

If anything, he was infuriating, patient, enigmatic, cold and aloof but otherwise just unfathomable. And a damned good masseuse, hers and Starfire's pleasantly sore backs a credit to his skill. As he had said, he would follow her orders within reason, and the scope of reason was rather wide.

Right now, it was midnight, and everyone was asleep, except her, and perhaps Aziz. While he had his own room, Aziz had at first insisted on staying outside of her room at night, often in a meditative pose in the corridor. Either he didn't sleep, or slept very little. She wasn't sure. Eventually, she had tired of it and had been on the verge of forcing him back to his room and locking him in, before a compromise solution had finally been reached.

The end result had been that she was now sleeping with a gun loaded with rubber bullets underneath her pillow along with a can of Mace, while Aziz made circuitous patrols of the entire tower while everyone slept, specifically passing her room on every route. She wound find out why, and what his mission was. Still, the compromise had been worth it. She could now walk around without him constantly shadowing her.

Shrugging off the thoughts, she sought the release of sleep.

**WWW **

Starfire snuggled further into the warmth beside her, placing her head at the crook of his neck. A hand rubbed small circles at the small of her back, causing her to arch occasionally with pleasure. She moved her head before settling it on his shoulder. He was so warm. She placed her leg over his, placing a feather light kiss on his forehead. _He's mine_.

Robin held her closely, breathing in her delicious scent. She was beautiful in every single way. He felt happy with her, content. He felt the curves of her body, felt the rise and fall of her breasts, in rhythm with her heart, its slow beating a balm to his nerves. _She's mine_.

It went against everything that Bruce had taught him, but tonight, Dick was happy. He had a girlfriend, a companion to share with him his trials as well as her own. He wasn't alone to face the world as an individual. He was part of something better than that. He could share with her the simple pleasures, as she did for him.

Honestly, it just felt comfortable to him. Even with Barbara, it had never really reached this level. A lot of firsts had been with her; the first kiss, the first dance. With Starfire, it was different. She was just so vital and _alive_. She made him feel alive, causing a fire to burn within. She was as the embodiment of his enthusiasm; the well from which his exuberance sprang. They shared a mental intimacy, talking about all sorts of things, from politics and philosophy to how a grunt from Gar qualified as profound thoughts. To put it simply, he was comfortable with her.

He knew he was lucky. Many men never found a partner they could be comfortable with at different levels. Most important though was the fact that Starfire was his friend. They had started as friends, and this was what would keep it going. This was what a relationship was based on. Long after the passion was gone, the intimacy and commitment would always remain, whether physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. He could honestly say that this was _love_. Acceptance, mutual and non-judgemental, is what he shared in his bond with Starfire. She was not a princess of the blood royal, heir to a planetary throne, nemesis to her sister Blackfire, but simply Starfire. He was not Richard John Grayson, poor rich boy, ward of Bruce Wayne, son of murdered parents, simply Richard Grayson.

She had told him slowly, about her childhood, her time in the royal crèches, the inner politics of the royal court. He in turn had told her about the circus and what it was like to grow up as part of the 'Flying Graysons', acrobats extraordinaire. The little things that made up their relationship, even the mundane, such as eating a meal together, helped to solidify their bond. Even her cooking had gotten slightly better, though but for the grace of god, Aziz somehow sacrificed himself to save them all, his diamond-hard stomach able to absorb even the most horrific of Tamaranian cuisine.

Yet, in the back of his mind, Bruce's lessons always remained._ Never form a relationship with a team mate, because it affects the team's dynamics. It affects your objectivity and professionalism. Never form a personal bond beyond friendship, because it **always** causes trouble. We owe it to the people we protect, and it's a necessary sacrifice. Remember that Dick._

He remembered those lessons too well; had seen the effect it had and was having on Bruce and Selina, Vesper, and now, Diana. He respected Batman, saw him as a father even, but he would never become him… _never_.

**WWW**

_The training exercise had gone wrong. They were undergoing their Mountain Ranger course, and were at the final phase of the program, where they would finally qualify as mountain warfare specialists and wear the coveted blue badge of the scorpion and mountain. Greater India Mountain Rangers; elite of the elite, the best mountain warfare force on the planet, with more combat experience and history than even the Tenth Mountain Division of the United States Army. _

_Things had proceeded normally, with the expected hardships of any special forces training. Still, they were warriors born and bred, Commandos of the Malayan Republic Armed Forces, of a martial people used to hardship and struggle. This was nothing. He was Staff Sergeant Aziz Yap Gang Hu, Commando of the First Singapore Commando Brigade and a Guards Commander of the Second Guards Battalion. The blood of a million battles flew in his veins, Israeli, Arab, Persian, Gurkha, Chinese, Maori, Japanese, Korean, Russian and countless others. _

_He was a qualified Ranger of the Pakistani and Indian armies, he'd trained with the USN SEALs, he'd survived the Russian Spetsnaz and come out on top, first in his cohort, he'd earned the right to wear the SAS maroon beret through blood and sweat. He'd served with the Royal Marines and Firstt Commando of the British Army. He'd served with the Australian SASR, Pakistani SSG, Indian Para-Commandos and PASKAL. This was **nothing.**_

_He would not surrender. He would not let his team mates die. At least, he tried to tell himself that. Currently, below him, attached to the rope that joined them all together, one out of five unconscious, the other three in the group climbed up slowly. He was carrying the unconscious one on his back; Third Sergeant Leroy McCallum, A.K.A. Mohammad Ibrahim, or the wee Scottish bastard. One of the funniest people he'd ever met. He'd lived in Johor Bahru, married to a Malay girl. He was the godfather of Leroy's daughter. He was now unconscious, with a major concussion. He would survive. Fucker had a thick skull. _

_They'd been deployed in teams of five, after enduring the one-man and buddy groupings of previous training. This was the final phase, a test of mental endurance and teamwork. An avalanche of rocks combined with a freak gale had slammed them into the cliff face, knocking them unconscious and causing several concussions and broken limbs. His being in the lead had saved him, but he'd lost all feeling in his right hand. He suspected a torn tendon, perhaps a ligament, along with nerve damage. Swelling indicated a possibility of a broken wrist. Broken, given how it felt. Blood was leaking from his ear, courtesy of the impact. Felt like a train had slammed into him._

_The others were in similar straits. They would pull through. A few broken legs, some whiplash injuries; they had been lucky. Aziz had used leverage to maintain a grip, but had taken a hit to the head by rocks weighing as much as a small child. He'd been outside a ledge the others had sheltered beneath. He had to take that position, as there wasn't any space, and he was in the lead._

_No clear fluid. Good. Clear fluid meant cerebrospinal fluid meant brain damage. Pain, good; it would keep him alert. Abrasion from the chafing of the backpack… blistering under his armpits and around his shoulders. **It was nothing**. Keep telling yourself that. Accept the pain._

_Oh God, the weight. No. He would pull them through, no matter what. He would save them. They were his comrades, his family. Painfully, he ignored the broken fingers, climbing slowly. The other followed, trying to keep up. They needed to make good speed._

_Good. They could reach the checkpoint. It was only two hundred metres up. He radioed ahead, thankful for the rugged equipment. Slowly, he led the way, ignoring the broken fingers of his left hand. Use your elbows. **Pain is weakness leaving the body**. _

_The rope was rubbing against the rocks. It had been strained. Indra called out to him. Corporal Indra Sadhan was his protégé, and son of his own mentor, Colonel Hakur Sadhan. He had the blue eyes of his Scandinavian mother. He was officer calibre. He'd end up in OCS. His brother was an Air Force pilot, his sister was a financial manager for Standard Chartered; his ex. Heh. Those were wild times._

_Indra was now nearly parallel to him, at his level, lessening the strain on it and him. Just as he raised his arm to gain a better grip, the rope snapped. For a moment, he was suspended in midair. A hand reached out to grab him, the broken fingers of the left hand snapping under the weight, the thumb driving hard into the flesh, before it grabbed the rope, the rope burning the flesh and skin. Indra jerked, blinking, looking at his saviour._

"_Get a grip on the fucking rocks!" hissed Aziz, as he pulled it closer. The pain was making him tremble, the muscle fatigue and pain driving into his mind. His shoulder had been wrenched out of position. Brief gasps of pain rang from his mouth. Indra got a grip. Good. Slowly and painfully, they made their way back up._

In the end, they'd pulled through. Each and every single one of them had survived. That incident had earned him his promotion to Master Sergeant. He'd been twenty-seven. He'd joined the military when he'd been sixteen, to pay for his own education and for that of his two sisters and younger brother. Unlike American inspired traditions in his home universe, the age of consent was sixteen and the legal age for drinking was eighteen, within the Malayan Republic, a member of the British Commonwealth. This allowed for a faster maturation and greater depth of experience, in a way, for the youth of his country, though it was relative. The law allowed one to take greater personal responsibility from a younger age.

Now, he was one thousand seven hundred and eighty-two years of chronological age, as measured by human time, but in the guise of a human adolescent body. Sometimes, he felt weary, but always, he persevered. Somehow, he knew he was something more now. What he was, he didn't know, but he had transcended human mortality. Yet, he was reluctant to let go…_ terrified_.

Sitting outside her room, he was half asleep, lapsed into a conscious resting state between sleep and wakefulness. No one would harm her. It was his charge, his chance at redemption, at liberation from this entire mockery that denied him the thing he wished for most; liberation; to see his loved ones, lost through the ages, through time and space… _his Sihaya_.

The Wellspring of My Soul, he had called her. He had encountered her only thrice, and had lost her each time, having had to kill her himself. He couldn't protect her. To be with her, he would see to Raven's protection.

If it gave him the remotest chance to be free of this cycle of despair, to see those he valued die over and over, to see his friends die, to be separated from the few children of his blood that had been taken from him, to see his mortal lovers pass into oblivion or otherwise, if it allowed for him to truly live, if what Khallusk had told him was true, that the protection of Raven allowed a small chance at this, he would do it. That reason and that reason alone was enough, but there was more to it, and he couldn't figure out what. Something was being concealed from him.

He had encountered many lovers throughout the ages, most women, some hermaphrodites, some men, all different individuals of various orientations and species, human and non-human, but none of them had ever been as precious to him as had been her. She was the only one he had ever given himself to totally and without shame, to be close to her, intimate with her, physically as much as emotionally, spiritually, mentally and psychically.

His eyes widened as he got up and began to patrol again, fluid grace permeating his movement, silent and stealthy against the darkness within the tower. What was even darker was the void within his heart.

**WWW**

Gar Logan stared at her photo. They'd taken it after watching Wicked Scary together. She'd been smiling at the camera, while he had looked at her, his eyes betraying the emotions he had felt for her, there and then.

In the depths of his heart, he still loved her, but he also carried a torch for another. Raven. Increasingly, he realised he was in a dilemma. What was it that Raven represented to him?She was a team mate, and a close friend, no doubt. He knew some of her vulnerabilities, her secrets. Just like any close friend. So why was he feeling… _jealous_?

Definitely, he envied Starfire and Robin for their closeness, something that he now lacked. They shared something at a level as deep as what he and Terra had shared.

They'd shared secrets to each other, as they held on to the other in the night, naked beneath the sheets, tired from their love making. She'd told him of how she'd had to survive the streets, of her travels across the world, from the Alps of Europe to the Rockies of North America. Mountains… there had always been mountains. She was a free spirit, and needed the open spaces of the mountains to survive.

He'd told her of his time with the Doom Patrol, the foster family that had raised him, of the loss of his parents. He'd exposed himself to her, made himself vulnerable in a way that allowed her into his heart. Now, she was back. Yet, she didn't want him. She didn't want a relationship with him, like they'd had before.

But time had passed, and both had changed. He somehow felt…drawn to Raven. But what was it about her that drew him to her? He lay down staring at the wall, caught in the web of thoughts.

**WWW**

Cyborg blinked awake, the silent alarm alerting him to something amiss in the tower. Someone had just entered through the front door of the Tower, using an encrypted code.

The unauthorised entry had used Robin's code to enter, but without following the appropriate rhythm. Robin had a certain rhythm to which he depressed the keys on the pad, a little extra security feature he'd programmed into the access pad. Only Cyborg knew about it.

This meant someone knew Robin's code, but didn't know about that little extra security measure. Red X?

He'd find out. Grabbing his communicator, he sent a silent message to Aziz. If there was something useful to having someone like that stalking the corridors of the tower at this time of the night, it was that extra sense of security that he provided.

Getting up from his tray, he armed his cannon. Just in case. Meanwhile, an alarm was activated in all of the rooms of the Titans members, waking everyone from their slumber.

**WWW**

As the intruder stepped into the hall, lights came on. He was surrounded. Directly in front of him, Cyborg aimed his arm cannon at him, its muzzle glowing with blue heat. Beside him, a youth dressed in a simple grey vest and black shorts, stared calmly at him, holding a staff in either hand. Robin stood at the side, birdarang out and ready, while flanking him were Starfire and Raven. Beast Boy was with Robin as well, his arms up in a fighting stance. All were alert and ready to fight. Behind him, a large array of guns pointed directly at him.

Slowly, as they realised who stood in front of them, they calmed down, their bodies relaxing from their hostile stance. There was a subtle shift in positions. There was no change in the body language or face of the youth though. He was unrecognised; a new Titan. Swiftly, with liquid grace, he moved to Raven's side, his face unchanged, his body relaxed and neutral, as it had been at the beginning. Starfire, Raven, Beast Boy and Cyborg had awe written into their faces, as they moved, unsure of how to handle their visitor.

Robin, on the other hand, expressed surprise and shock. The sight before him was the person he had last expected to see, one of the reasons why he'd left Gotham in the first place.

"Batman…"

Silence filled the air, before Batman answered in the gravely, deep baritone voice that separated his persona from Bruce Wayne. "Robin, the Joker is here."

**WWW**

In the abandoned fortress, the Alip Guardsman slowly and carefully removed the final alarm, as Ascanio Rosa entered the cryogenic chamber that contained the imprisoned personnel of the Brotherhood of Evil. The work done by the Titans in securing the facility had been tremendous, and of high quality. It had taken 3 weeks longer than expected to clear the facility of alarms.

As he stared at row upon row of cryogenically frozen villains, a small smile twisted on his face. _Absolutely pathetic_. With the Society of Ahriman directing their actions, things would change. Beside him, an envoy from the League of Assassins, loyalist followers of Ras Al Ghul, watched in awe, as the process of reviving the frozen criminals began. They would be processed and given a choice. If not cooperative, they would be allowed to go free, but some key personnel such as the 'Brain', and the genetically engineered gorilla, Monsieur Mallah, were to be debriefed. The Brotherhood would be reorganised under Ahriman's terms.

A message had been delivered to the vampire and witch covens scattered throughout Europe and North America, as well as to the League of Assassins and the Shadow League, both of which were loyal to Ras Al Ghul. The Lord Imperial of the Ahriman Society would not be denied his desires.

**WWW**

The Lord Imperial watched the videos, a smile crossing his face. So, his brother was prepared to come to this world, and the foster brother of his own prodigal brother was here with this group of juveniles?

The last time he'd encountered them was over a millennia ago. Let them come. No one crossed Derman Ugorg, son of the First Murderer and the Fallen Woman of El, destroyed by Rugal Al-Ilham so long ago, in a universe long trapped in the throes of heat death and entropy.

They would find him, one way or another, and he would devour them all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 (Intermission): The Warrior's Heart**

_Author's Notes_: The song is 'Dreamcatcher' by Select Garden. I was watching a video clip at this URL: "  and thought of using the song lyrics to construct a story around the pain and loss that a person struggling to hold on to their mortality and human compassion, their hope in a better future, despite all that has happened to them, to hold onto their love. It goes into the background of my OC, and his motivations. To make it clear, Raven is NOT his Sihaya. Hope you like it.

Ah, and chapter 12 will take some time to come, but rest assured once Black Mage betas it, it will come. This is just to fill in some gaps and provide some light reading.

_Hear my silent prayer_

All around them lay a blasted wasteland. Piles of corpses lay rotting around the area, ruinous skeletons of concrete rising from the urban ash that had once been a city. The tattered remains of a Sardaukar Golden Lion flag stood fluttering forlornly in the wind, as did the standard of the Doom Kestrels, the teal kestrel flying proud over fields of topaz blue on a golden background. Both were torn and tattered, standing alone in scenes of desolation. _Victory._

In the shadow of a building, the moans of the wounded could be heard. Bloodied bandages and syringes were strewn around, as combat medics did their best to stall the bleeding, while phials of surgical nanomachines were drawn into hypodermic syringe guns and prepared for injection into the dying. There wasn't enough. The electromagnetic pulse had scrambled much of the medical equipment, though they were lucky that the winds were pushing the radiation into enemy territory.

In a quiet corner, insulated from the sound of painful groans by a ruined wall, a soldier bent over a dying child, holding her hand with unaccustomed tenderness, whispering a prayer to deities far and distant. As she breathed her last, she looked into the grey haunted eyes and saw compassion and empathy.

She died with a wan smile._  
_

_  
Heed my quiet call_

In a quiet corner, the soldier wearily squatted down, his photoreactive camouflage fibres reacting with the background to mimic them in disruptive shapes and patterns. The standard Doom Kestrel uniform. Beneath this he wore a black cotton mesh shirt, slick with sweat and grimy with dust.

Three days without sleep had left his eyes bloodshot, and stress lined his face. A palpable weariness weighed down on him. He was an infantryman, signaller and medical officer, as demanded by being a member of the Doom Kestrel Siwang Force. Tactical adaptability was their forte. The river of wounded continued to trickle in, leaving little time to rest.

As his eyes began to close, he got up, hearing her quiet call. On the threshold of hearing, she was whispering his name: "Aziz…"

_  
When the dark and blue surround you_

He stepped into the cool room, light filtering in through transparent impact ceramics that made up the windows of the field hospital. The lights were dim. Antiseptic; the scent of it filled the room.

She was lying on the mattress, placed on the floor. Her bandages were bloodied, wrapped around her midsection. Internal bleeding had been stopped through injection of biofoam into her abdominal cavity. Her right leg was in a splint.

He knelt down beside her, and she lifted her hand to stroke his face. Her touch was feather light…..and cold. She said his name once more; "Aziz…"

"Sihaya, please rest". That was all he could think to say, but the way he said those three words conveyed to her the depth of his emotions. As did the slight trembling of his lips, as did the ever so slight moistening of his eyes, concealed by camouflage paint. She knew.

_  
Step into my sigh_

He held her hand, stroking her face with his callused knuckles, freed from the confines of his gloves. Heaving her up into a sitting position, he attempted to feed her some of his rations. She hadn't eaten in 3 days. She rejected it, told him she was feeling perfectly fine. The physiological readings of her body said otherwise.

Her olive skin had a thin sheen of sweat to it, despite the fact that her body was cool to the touch. He tasted the air with his tongue, let the membranes beneath absorb the air, isolated the pheromones emitting from her body. It was internalised now, a part of his training.

Something inside him began to feel fear. With an exhalation of breath, she returned to her fitful sleep, clutching his hand desperately. He squeezed it gently.

_  
Look inside the light_

The phosphorescent lights cast a harsh glow as evening descended. He had managed to sleep for six hours, before attending to communications with the main base. As the ranking officer, a 2nd Lieutenant, he was in charge of this outpost, offering medical treatment to the survivors of the nuclear holocaust and bombing that had taken place. Refugees streamed past the ruined town, intent on reaching the main city and getting offworld. Soon, the Black Dragon Marine Elites would deploy in strength, and purge this world of rebellion.

He checked on her. Her pulse was weaker than before. Her olive skin was a shade paler. A face he knew so well, had explored with his hands and lips, was corpselike. He didn't shudder. He vigorously massaged her legs and feet to get the blood flowing, waking her in the process and getting her to eat grilled myonmauk lizard, a local delicacy in this part of this world. Some said that eating its liver raw was good for you.

He had made it into a puree, and sat by her side, coercing her to drink it, in exchange whispering into her ear and promising her a night of wild, uninhibited love making, just the two of them at the nearby beach, opening out into the ocean, if she drank it and got better.

She laughed weakly, then began to cough, holding a paper napkin to her mouth. She tried to hide it, but he saw. She was coughing up blood.

_  
You will know that I have found you  
_

"Az, I'm dying." She said it with finality, with absolute conviction.

He simply nodded. Then he said only one word before stopping. "Julia…"

If he talked, he risked a breakdown, he risked crying.

"Lie down next to me. Hold me like you used to. Like when we were on Echint. Do you remember that night? The stars were so beautiful, and I asked you to make a wish. We were in the mountains. Do you remember?"

_I remember_

He did not say a word, he simply complied and lay down with her on the mattress, tenderly holding her and warming her cool body. In the silence, he heard her heartbeat, its rhythm steady but faint. He pressed his face against her head, inhaling her scent. She smelled of lilacs and roses, even now.

_Sihaya, I remember. I wished for your happiness. I wished that you would live, because when you are happy, I am happiest of all. I am a selfish person, and I want to be happy, therefore, I want you to be happy above all else. You are the part of me that makes me feel alive…_

He felt the tendril of her mind touch his, felt the gulf that it was near. She knew.

_I know. You are my warrior, my angel, my soul mate. Everyone calls you a demon, but I know who you are. I knew you in a thousand lifetimes, and I know you know. You are the happiest part of my life. I have not regrets Gang Hu. I have none._

Two hours later, a service medic roused him from his sleep. She was breathing steadily, fast asleep. Oddly enough, even though it was a dry night, the dehumidifiers scattered throughout the field hospital humming away silently, her hair was moist.

_  
Hear my silent prayer_

She made a final prayer for his happiness, prayed that he would find peace. Yet, she was also scared. She didn't want to leave him, to be separated from him. She didn't want to die and leave him alone. Life was already so hard on him.

"Aziz…..I'm scared. It's so painful". Her voice quavered with fear. She didn't tell him that she was scared for him. She had faith. She already knew what was to come. She had lived life, but only had a single regret. She would never have the chance to become the mother of his children, to live a life with him. Tears poured from her eyes, the agony mental, physical and emotional.

He was again by her side, holding her, telling her that it would be alright. The medics would come and keep her alive. He was about to summon them, when she reached up to him, her fingers trailing over his face.

"Don't. It hurts so much Az. I'm going to die. That is a fact. Save the drugs and nanites you have for the living. I'm already dying. I just have one request. Please…make my death quick. I have been suffering since I was hurt. I cannot hold on any longer…."

"But Sihaya, we have nothing to help you…"

"I know" She croaked, her throat dry and lips cracked. She gazed at him, her eyes travelling downwards. He followed her gaze, until it rested on his hands. She looked at him straight in the eye and nodded.

As he realised the implications of what she intended, what she wanted, a single tear dropped from him, then another, as he began to sob. He stopped himself at the tenth tear, his face twisted in anguish at her request.

With slow, hesitant hands, he reached for her neck, his arms trembling uncontrollably. She looked unflinchingly at him, letting him see her fear and sorrow, her agony, but also her love for him.

As he placed his hands around her slender neck, he knelt down next to her ear and whispered the one endearment so rarely used by him, and tears sprung to her eyes.

"_Mo Cuishle, my darling…..my sihaya…my love…"_ he whispered into her ear.

With a quick snap, it was over. Her eyes glazed over, before he closed them. Then, with slow, heavy steps, he turned to go to his office, to make a report. As soon as the door was shut, he stared at the wall, leaning against it, before sliding down slowly, unable to breathe, sobs wracking his entire frame in anguish, animal-like noises of anguish and sorrow escaping, as he finally came to rest, his forehead against his knees.

He allowed himself to lose control for exactly three minutes, before he regained his composure. As he neatened his desk, the orderly, a nurse and a service medic entered his office to tell him they had found her dead. His face a granite mask, he simply carried out the protocol as demanded.

_  
Heed my quiet call_

He did not turn his gaze away as her body burned on the open pyre, reducing her to bone and ash.

He did not flinch as her body, the moisture escaping from the burning corpse, tried to rise, its tissues sizzling and snapping in the flames.

He did not move as the smell of charred flesh reached his nose.

He forced himself to look at it the whole night, rooted to the spot, when all the others had left.

He did not make a sound throughout the entire funeral, refusing to speak.

Finally, when it was done, he gathered what remained into a clay urn she had given him to use as a flower vase. As he scooped the ash and bones into the urn, he heard a whisper, and turned, thinking that he saw a silhouette of his lover against the sinking sun.

_  
When the dark and blue surround you  
_

The chill night air did little to affect him. Clad only in his long pants and boots, wearing his mesh shirt, he sat down by the sea, hugging his knees. Beside him was the urn.

The blue darkness of the night embraced him. There were no stars, it was a cloudy night.

In the distance, the flaming contrails of artillery support from satellites in low orbit bombarded the enemy positions, several kilometres distant.

Standing, he took the urn and threw it as far as it could go into the crashing surf.

As he stood there, the roar of the waves the only sound to be heard, a sudden urge overtook him and he screamed. He screamed until it became a roar and drowned out the crashing waves. His roar echoed off the cliffs. He roared until he ran out of breath, then he roared again. He roared until, finally, his vocal cords, inflamed from their use, tore and bled, and he could roar no more.

In that moment, something happened to his soul, and a part of him died. In that moment, the Black Tiger was born.

Aziz was 240 years old.

_  
Step into my sigh  
Look inside the light  
You will know that I have found you_

**WWW**

He woke up from the memory. As he looked down, runes began to cover his body, their dim white light casting shadows throughout his room, his body losing its consistency, its solidity, as it became immaterial.

Exercising his will, he fought back, throwing up the barriers that held it in check. He held on to the few threads of mortality that he could, as it subsided, the power dying down and becoming dormant once more. Over the centuries, it had gotten harder, each time having to seal it off, simply to maintain his semblance of humanity. Slowly, the runes died out, dimming before disappearing.

He had reached into his _chi_, his life force, to heal himself, but the power was cunning, and had slipped through. Then again, it was simply a part of him wanting to be acknowledged, to be accepted. And he would not do so.

_You are Karas'thy Raksa. You went beyond the gate. You are one of us now. You are Ulthaj._

Rising up, he went to check on the sleeping Titans. Ever since Batman had arrived to inform Robin of the new threat, the atmosphere had become electrically charged, as if a storm was about to break loose.

But Aziz knew he would be there to deal with it. Any threat that interfered with his one mission, to keep Raven safe, he would deal with.

He entered Raven's room, taking in the bookcase, the small decorations she had, the photos of her friends. _Her family_.

Keepsakes from Azarath littered a glass casing, as did a bound book. Photos and portraits of a woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Raven filled the shelves. It had to be her mother. She looked serene and graceful, with a hint of sorrow in her hazel eyes.

She was sleeping peacefully, her face like alabaster in the moonlight. She had a heart shaped face, framed by lavender hair and high cheekbones that only added to her dark beauty.

Staring at her, something moved in the Black Tiger's soul, and at a spiritual level, something happened, as her soul reached out for someone similar to herself, who knew loneliness as dark and terrible as she, its power seductive and attractive, its familiarity and proximity tantalising. Its questing tendrils met with another, and a connection was formed.

In that moment, as he looked at her, a spark of pure undying love was created in the heart of darkness, and the Black Tiger realised then, that the memory of his future death was true. Raven had been the cause of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Joke of Despair** **Part 2**

Batman looked at Robin as he deftly manoeuvred around the conference room. He'd accepted a drink of Darjeeling tea from Raven. Quiet awe radiated from them as they went about their business.

He had studied the tower. Solidly constructed and armoured with no major faults; his analysis had displayed a triple redundancy in all the major systems, as well as two different emergency backup power systems. The exterior was armoured with a honeycomb of dense titanium-steel armour as well as tiled with C.H.O.B.H.A.M. armour, making it incredibly powerful and resistant to projectile weaponry. Similarly, a capillary of cooling systems on the exterior not only served to distribute heat around the tower, but acted as a heat sink to absorb the thermal energy of incoming attacks from lasers.

He had observed the Teen Titans, keeping an eye on them. He'd almost intervened when he'd heard that Robin had been cryogenically frozen by the Brotherhood of Evil, had been prepared to team with the Green Arrow and several other heroes whose juniors had been captured, when they'd learnt of the defeat of the Brotherhood, and the resulting cryogenic prison.

After that incident, he'd been catching up on his protégé's work. He had been suitably impressed, but had hidden it well, when the Doom Patrol had stopped over in Gotham in pursuit of a renegade Intergang operative. His brief alliance with them had revealed to him the depth of Robin's achievements, and he couldn't help but feel proud of his ward.

Back in the tower, he noticed the efficiency with which the team was coordinated, and their performance record was a testament to the superior organisational, tactical and strategic skills and superlative leadership of Robin. While he may not have been its heart or soul, or even its powerhouse, Batman knew for sure that his ward was the brain of the team, and took no small amount of pride in that.

As far as he could see, his ward was growing into an outstandingly handsome young man, with a keen intelligence and sensitive nature as well as a healthy respect for authority, and a fighter with the potential to match even the Bronze Tiger. He was a skilled detective, trained in all the same disciplines as Batman himself, and an even better acrobat than him.

The only thing that could possibly mar this was seeing his protégé break the rule that he'd drilled into him since the beginning. _Never form a personal relationship with a team mate beyond friendship_. He'd drilled that into Robin over and over, going so far as to heavily discourage the relationship that had been blossoming between him and Batgirl.

They owed it to the people of Gotham to always operate at their full capacity, and intimate relationships always hindered that. His dalliance with Talia had more than proved that. He had let her into his heart, and she had abandoned him. After her miscarriage, she had rejected him totally. It was for the best that no bonds beyond friendship be formed.

**WWW**

Ascanio Rosa looked on as Madame Rouge, Monsieur Mallah and the Brain were released from their captive cryogenic state. Formerly known as Monsieur Henri Philippe Shadix, he had been a brilliant biologist renowned for his work with animals, primarily primates such as orang-utans and gorillas. Monsieur Mallah was the result of one such experiment.

He had been assumed dead in a freak accident, when a batch of chemicals had reacted explosively in his lab, starting a fire that had gutted the building, a biology block. It had initially been blamed on the actions of a member of P.E.T.A., but that had been disproved by the Gendarmeries of the French police.

Of course, now, most people knew of him simply as 'The Brain', or 'Le Cerveau', as he was termed in French. He also happened to be a homosexual, another fact that had been omitted. Somehow, it just did not go down very well with the American authorities when they were outwitted by a gay French supervillain who was in essence, a brain in a jar.

The real cause of his death had been through the sabotage of his work by Niles Caulder, who had originally intended to place him in Robotman's body, but Monsieur Mallah had saved him from such a fate, and ever since, they had engaged with the Doom Patrol on a quest for vengeance, disguised under the laughable pretext of 'world domination'.

They would take some time to recover from their extended cryogenic hibernation, but were otherwise of sound physical and physiological health. Once they were recovered, then he could deal with them. They would be properly debriefed, and given the necessary memory wipes.

Those who were resistant or uncooperative would have the pleasure of having Ascanio Rosa facilitate a meeting between them and the appropriate deities.

**WWW**

"_What is it that makes the humans so special? What is it that draws you to them? They fight. They argue. They are ruled by passions and fears." _

"Yes, and that is their strength. They do not seek conformity. They do not surrender. Out of their differences comes symmetry, their unique capacity to fight against impossible odds. Hurt them, and they only come back stronger. The passions we deplore will take them to their place in the stars and will propel them to a great destiny. Their only weakness is that they do not recognize their own greatness. They forget that they have come to this place through two million years of evolution, struggle and blood and they are better than they think and nobler than they know. They carry within them the capacity to walk amongst the stars like titans. They are the future and we have much to learn from them."

"_Do you think so Achyuta? What makes you so certain that they will not destroy themselves in the throes of a nuclear war, or tear themselves apart in internecine warfare? What makes you so certain that they will not fall prey to…them? _

"The Karas'thy Raksa is here, and that knowledge should be enough for you."

"_Karas'thy Raksa. You mean him? How can he…? By the Omniverse! You cannot mean… Rayaan said as much. He protects the Raven Queen, doesn't he? The Ulthaj…reborn is the Raven Queen, Watcher of the Night, through strife and sacrifice, the Karas'thy Raksa by her side? So he was telling the truth."_

"He will not accept his power. He clings to mortality."

"_You have not told him of the plans, have you?" _

"I will let him find out for himself, to see the tapestry if you will. Only when he realises the magnitude of the plan will he finally come over to our side. The Ulthaj want it that way. To put a mortal being through the sort of experiences my 'brother' has been through and will go through is not something even I can condone. If there is one thing I can never forgive the Ulthaj for, it is what they have done to my brother, and what the plan forces me to do, but it is for his own good, as it is for humanity and for the Raven Queen. Honestly, I pity them both, for they are called to do more than anyone else, and they run the risk of losing everything and everyone they value."

"_And the others? What of Khallusk and Halgur? What of Shaluf and Urenor?"_

"They have no say, but we all know what will happen for sure. The Ulthaj are leaving the Omniverse, along with the elder deities, all leaving for Harroth. Only Shaluf, Khallusk, Urenor and the others will stay."

**WWW**

Raven couldn't help but glance at Batman in awe. Even among the magical world, he was a renowned figure. Through only his guile and physical prowess, he had combated and defeated threats that even accomplished mages had difficulty with, beings such as Morgan le Fay fearing him, and Etrigan the Demon seeking his aid in matters of the occult. A peerless escapologist, he had been trained by the legendary Zatara himself, father of Zatana.

It had even been rumoured that he had been Zatana's lover, though this was talked about with utmost caution, given the fact that the last warlock to speak of the matter had been reduced to a pile of smoking ashes in the aftermath of the supposed break-up.

He was a figure wrapped in urban myth and magical legend, having tarried with individuals from across space and time, a legend among heroes, even more so than Superman, and was all the more impressive for it, simply because he was a human.

It was this attraction and desire to get closer to the mystery that had in part motivated her to join the Titans. Robin, by association, at the beginning, had been imbued with a large portion of the mystery surrounding Batman, his mentor's influence shaping public opinion of him at first. Eventually, it had been dissolved, as over time they had discovered that Robin was just as mortal as any one of them, with all the accompanying faults.

Still, while Raven would never admit it, his dark, brooding presence was attractive to her. He was intelligent, with such _cerulean _eyes. In a way, Beast Boy and Robin were diametric opposites. One was full of laughter and life, the other dark and brooding yet sensitive, the other cute and brightly handsome, the latter cloaked with a dusky beauty about him. Both were incredibly attractive in their own way, and both were alpha males, strong leaders who could guide their teams and survive.

While she had never admitted it to anyone, she had strong physical as much as intellectual and emotional desires, and she saw in Robin and Beast Boy a sense of kindred spirit. All three of them had had turbulent childhoods. Conversely, it could be argued that she had never had a proper childhood, among all the Titans. Raised in Azarath by a monastic order, it had always been about control, tranquillity and meditation. Among the Titans, perhaps only Cyborg and Robin had experienced anything close to normality.

Oddly enough, in all their time together as a team, though the Titans were closer to a family, Robin had never talked about his time before the Titans, when he had simply been the sidekick. It was as if there was a time he did not wish to go back to, though he referred to it obliquely now and then, by way of a cryptic comment here and there. Things were not all that they seemed.

**WWW**

Robin listened intently as Batman briefed them on why he had pursued the Joker all the way to Jump City.

The Joker had once been Joseph 'Joe' Kerr, also known as the Red Hood. A sociopath insane master criminal with a surprising ability to escape death, he used countless comedic weapons, often to lethal effect, a trademark being 'Joker Venom'. Remarkably enough, for an uneducated man, he had surprising skill in computer technology, chemistry and genetics.

The Joker was a killer clown, driven by a disordered mind to pursue destruction and chaos with as much panache as possible. His appearance and actions suggested the bright and garish pomp and circumstance of a circus. He was a murderer clown, responsible for the death of hundreds now, if not thousands of men, women, children and even his own henchmen. Despite his excessive murders, despite deserving the death penalty a thousands times over, he always managed to escape it via his dream team of lawyers, who managed to gain a ruling of 'not guilty through reason of insanity'.

Robin believed that the Joker and Batman existed because of each other; Batman representing order and Joker the chaos that challenges it. In contrast to the Joker, the Batman was a stoic, serious individual who pursued his vendetta with a near-fanatical drive and focused, disciplined mind. Responsible for saving hundreds of lives, if not thousands, and bringing justice where few else could. He had said as much to Starfire, and the others on occasion.

What exactly he was doing in Jump was simple. In recent weeks, a copycat clown killer had started to operate within the surrounding counties, and had slowly been working his way towards Jump City. His modus operandi was simple; the random killings of people, with the aftermath being that they were arranged in a macabre, grotesque mockery of the living, often with their faces mutilated into disturbing smiles or into comic representations of life.

Even experienced crime scene investigators had sought psychiatric counselling after their experience, and so far, one of the investigating officers had left the force, citing '_personal relationship and psychological problems_' as a major reason. His foray into Jump City had been marked with the death of several drug addicts from batches of tainted cocaine that had somehow found their way onto the streets. It seemed this was his way of funding himself, a well as testing the efficacy of his new drug cocktails; specifically, his latest drug cocktail, named _Bamapana_. A powerful hallucinogenic cocktail derived from Black Mamba and Mojave Rattlesnake poison as well as other rare compounds, it was a combination haemotoxin, cardiotoxin and neurotoxin, affecting the blood, cardiovascular system and brain, causing death within a minute of direct injection or longer if taken in orally in pill form or powder, though this varied depending upon the purity. Different purities took longer. Similarly, it caused the same affect as pure cocaine, altering consciousness to dangerous levels.

Taking the name of Joculare, a Late Latin term for clown, the killer was an unknown individual who displayed a superior talent in psychology and manipulation as well as pharmacology, toxicology and chemistry, creating deadly explosives and poisons from regular household appliances. Most definitely a man, he had thrown down the gauntlet, claiming as his own title the Clown Prince of Crime, as well as creating the title of Ananse for himself, an Akan mythological trickster.

The little that was known about him was simple; an acrobat of amazing agility, he had escaped the police multiple times, and had an uncanny form of luck, somehow always turning even the best planned police raids into farces as he escaped, leaving deadly traps that had already claimed the lives of three policemen.

Batman strongly suspected a supernatural ability to turn probability in his favour. Similarly, he was a resourceful and brutal fighter, known to possess savage strength, by virtue of his drug-enhanced body. He had ripped a toilet bowl from the floor and bludgeoned a Mafia assassin to death, before slaughtering an entire squad of thirty two enforcers in a carefully orchestrated arson of their weapons caches in Gotham's outskirts, where he had laid claim to the title and challenged the Joker, to draw him out.

**WWW**

As Aziz listened carefully to Batman, he sifted through his mind for facts regarding the Joker. He had memorised a list of the villains faced by the Teen Titans, and had categorised them in levels of threat that they presented. For example, the Brain presented a severe strategic threat but little tactical threat, while Deathstroke presented both a tactical and strategic threat. Doctor Light had the potential to present a threat, by virtue of his technology, but his foppish attitude and lack of tactical acumen, as well as an inability to learn from his past mistakes, dogged him.

The Joker-Batman rivalry was another relationship of legend he had learned of on this world, while dismantling the syndicates here and ripping out the heart of the criminal underworld in Russia. Numerous syndicates, gangs and cartels, as well as super-powered villains, had a policy of not working with the Joker, the 'Luthor Incident' in Metropolis a case study in point. Due to his capricious nature, maniacal bloodlust and plans that made sense only to the Joker himself, it was generally a wise choice to refrain from handling the Joker.

With the combination of two sadistic, psychopathic individuals using the city as a battleground, there was sure to be collateral damage to the city, as well as the deaths of innocent and guilty alike, if both their records were anything to go by.

**WWW**

Joculare stared at the mirror, noticing the beautiful arrangement that the scars made on his body. A single cut for every victim. His face was painted white, covering his entire face, reflecting the position of a whiteface clown, which he had once been. The whiteface clown was serious, all-knowing, bossy, and cocky, though Joculare was none of the last three qualities. He was the ultimate authority figure, serving the role of "straight-man" and setting up situations that could be turned funny.

There was something so appealing about the screams of his victims, the frothing of their mouths, the squeals and groans and blood. Somehow, he saw the beauty of the universe in the pools of his dying victims. It was almost comical, the expression on their faces as they died. As if they didn't expect it. He suppressed a giggle.

Beside him lay the eviscerated bodies of two prostitutes. He felt no remorse that he had killed them. They had come towards him, soliciting his patronage. He had obliged, and once they had promptly entered his lair, he had proceeded to inject them with his Bamapana drug.

Their manner of their death had been beautiful. The sheer terror as their nervous system overloaded, as their hearts seized up. He had injected them with a fatal dosage, but calculated to take approximately ten minutes before they died.

It had been a beautiful ten minutes, watching as their shuddering bodies juddered against the floor, making an almost musical finish to their death. In return, he had arranged their bodies into a perverse position, mouth to genitals, while stuffing cigarettes into their exposed cleavage and orifices. On seeing his artwork, he had admired it, laughing at the image it presented.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the _fake _Clown Prince of Crime."

Joculare turned to look at the staircase, where the Joker stood, Harley Quinn by his side. Of course, Harley had her water gun pointed straight at Joculare. A water gun filled with sulphuric acid.

"Ah, welcome to my humble abode Joker. I see you received my invite." As he spoke, the scorn and contempt was obvious in his voice. The Joker was lacking in professionalism, making jokes that most people didn't even get at times. No clear plan. No relevance to modern society. You were suppose to involved the audience, move them emotionally, not use cheap tricks like Joker gas to make them laugh. That was fake comedy.

Joculare used physicality to express it, the movement of the human corpse as it dangled from a lamp post, like an acrobat caught in midair. The beautiful, quiet dripping of blood to form a musical composition, added to the screams of his victims, their minds overloaded with pain and his own derivative poison of Joker toxin. His victims truly had the final laugh, as they laughed away on Bamapana, his jokes finally perceived by them in their chemically altered state; a true art-form.

"How 'bout it puddin'? Can I? Please pudding?" Harley begged eagerly, her finger itchy and twitching.

"Sure, go ahead Harley. Let's show him how real comedy is done." At that, Joker threw down a balloon, filled with liquefied Joker gas. Upon impact, it splattered everywhere, filling the room with noxious fumes that the Joker and Harley were immune to. At this point, the Jokerz, henchmen of the Joker, stormed in, gas masks covering their faces, pistols at the ready.

As the gas dissipated, shots rang out, and out of the fog of gas, a grenade was thrown. Trailing noxious fumes, it swiftly detonated in a sphere of sparks, sending chlorine gas and shrapnel in every direction.

Joculare jumped out of the fog, gas mask on, as he landed in front of the Jokerz, flinging razors coated with Black Mamba toxin into their midst. Somersaulting again, he landed in front of Harley, as he flipped out a rose from his pocket before sticking the sharpened stem, reinforced with surgical steel, into her shoulder. She screamed in pain, dropping the gun. Just then, Joker turned towards him, letting the flower on his lapel unleash its own hazardous payload of Joker venom-coated needles. Standing absolutely still, Joculare stood, as a Jokerz blundered into the path of the deadly projectiles.

Sidestepping the fallen, writhing Jokerz, he landed a punch to Joker's face, flooring him, before leaping out the window. As he leapt for the next building, he primed the experimental fusion blast grenade that had been handed to him by his backer, and threw it behind him.

A strong whine followed by a roar filled the industrial park, as police sirens sounded in the distance, and flesh was flash grilled before evaporating in the intense heat, concrete liquefying within a split second.

By the time the police arrived, there was no trace of either.

**WWW**

In another part of the city, at the city limits, a woman with her infant son, only four months old, entered a room. An African-American woman, she was only twenty four, but her haggard face made her appear in her forties. Cash gripped tightly in her free hand, she trembled in anticipation at getting her next fix. All she needed was one shot. That was all. It did not concern her at all that the cash she was holding was the only money she had to survive on for the next month.

She stepped over the catatonic man on the floor, whimpering as he lay in a foetal position, his eyes glazed over in a stupor. Throughout the adjoining room, the waft of cigarettes and the stench of alcohol could be smelt. In the corners, a pimp casually smoked a joint as his whore knelt down in front of him, his unzipped pants pulled down to his knees. A slurping sound could be heard as she went to work, eager to please her boss.

In another room, rap music blasted out, as the local Hispanic gangbangers drank and shot off their mouths about how many women they'd banged the night before, while in the corner, their leader counted off his money.

Just then, the local dealer returned, his gold chains rattling as he entered the room, preceded by his bodyguard, a large man whose main hobby was brawling and bodybuilding, and who had recently been released from community service, by litigation of his talented team of lawyers, and the fact that several of the security personnel involved had been paid off to testify to the fact that he was elsewhere at the time of the alleged assault. The recent intake of ex-cops from Bludhaven, under suspicious circumstances, to serve as private security for Creed Pharmaceuticals, where the alleged incident had taken place, had been duly noted, but there was nothing the police could do.

"Yo bitches, you come here now. I got some new apple jacks yo! Hey my nigger, pass me a 3750 marijuana and crack rolled in a joint."

"You got it boss man. High grade stuff innit?"

"Best of the best bro. Now, pass me some. Got this shit off some gay-ass cracker dressed like a clown. Foo' called it bama-sumting. Good stuff too. Tried some a' this…."

The woman interrupted. Her fingers were trembling in anticipation. She pawed him the money, her eagerness overwhelming. Slumping against the wall, she took the proffered joint with trembling hands, before inhaling deeply; others around her snorted from a plate that was passed around. As it came to her, she placed a few more dollars on the plate, as everyone was doing. Slowly, the effects started, as the light distorted around her and the euphoria began to fill her.

As she looked, the infant in her arms began to mutate into an insect-like thing. Giggling, she carried it to the toilet. She'd have to flush it down. Why not let the little thing have a bit of fun before she flushed it? Letting a little bit of powder trickle onto her tongue, she let a gob of spit filled with the powder fall into the insect's mouth.

Tripping over herself, just then, she began to froth, and she fell, dropping the infant into the toilet bowl, itself filled with excrement and urine and vomit, clogged as it was. Outside, the others succumbed to the effects as well, their bodies caught in seizures, muscles contracting, organs failing, blood rushing and pooling, their vessels bursting, neurons firing in disharmony as their system succumbed to the toxins effects.

**WWW**

As they made their way by vehicles to the site of the mysterious explosion, they heard over the radio of another incident, involving several cases of lethal drug overdoses.

Turning sharply, they made their way there, Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven racing ahead as the Black Tiger kept pace in his jet-bike, while on the ground, the Batmobile and R-Cycle sped through the roads, breaking several speed limits as they made their way through traffic junctions, Batman's sensor-jamming suite changing the lights to suit them.

Starfire had noticed a visible lessening in Robin's spirits, as Batman had seemingly taken over. He was deferring to Batman; they all were, but there was an element of strong defiance in his actions. Even as he followed his orders, he did so with a certain body language, a certain look in his eyes that indicated reluctance, a chafing. He was not happy being so close to Batman.

She knew her boy's body language any day.

Since they were nearer the site of the overdose case, they decided to split up, Batman and Robin heading to the explosion with Cyborg, while all those who could fly would ahead to the other case before joining up with them.

Banking into a sharp turn, the Black Tiger acted as wing-mate to Starfire and Raven, as they formed into a V formation, intent on getting there as fast as possible.

**WWW**

The scene that met them was nightmarish. As the flashing red and blue lights from the police patrol vehicles illuminated the outside, they gingerly stepped into the room.

As they stepped in, the smell of blood threatened to overwhelm them for an instant. A police corporal rushed out, gagging, before finding a corner and vomiting the contents of his dinner over the floor.

Raven briefly stepped back, while Starfire's eyes visibly dimmed, as she brought her hand up to her mouth. Beast Boy stood in shock.

Puddles of blood had formed around the corpses, pooling and congealing in thick, viscous streams of crimson. Bodily waste littered the area, the stench of excrement coming from the corpses as they had lost their muscular control and soiled their clothes. Some of them were still alive, paramedics desperately trying to save them, but it was too late.

Aziz looked at it without blinking. His visor reflected the scene surrounding him. His face did not change, nor did his heartbeat. He had seen worse. _He was responsible for worse_.

Closing his eyes, he waited, pushing back the rage that rose up from somewhere within him. He accepted it, noted it down, that let it flow as emotional energy through his body. Outwardly, nothing changed. The emotional barriers remained in place.

Just then, the prescience overtook him; a vision, a flash, an impression. It was an ability he had; a blessed curse that allowed him to see the future, past and present, anywhere and everywhere… his burden. He actively suppressed it, flexing his diamond will. It was gone once again. The only times it came now were in his sleep, as memories, and during shatter-points in time, when something that could affect the future occurred. He knew he was going to die, had seen it. Yet, his instinct told him to go there.

Entering the toilet, he looked around, noted the shivering body of the woman. She whispered something. He bent down, taking off his helmet, and touched her mouth. All around him, the spirits came to him, filled him with their lives, their experiences, their memories, their burdens, their joys and hopes, their knowledge and wisdom. As they did every single day he continued to live.

He lived their lives in an instant, impressions and flashes filling him, even the pain of their deaths. Finally, it subsided to the normal background hum, as they continued to fill him, always at the edge, the collective unconscious of several trillion times a trillion beings and more, their egos and knowledge a part of him, a part of the universes he had destroyed, the deities he had killed, the people he had slaughtered. Their experiences were now his. As was their horrors and pains, in equal measure with their happiness and joys.

He was used to it.

Then he saw the small, fragile body in the toilet bowl. And as the woman moved her lips, he finally understood what she had been saying; "My baby."

**WWW**

Taking off his helmet, he fished the infant out of the mess, washed him off the gunk and dirt that clung to his small frame.

Just then, Starfire walked in. Calmly, he turned to her.

"Fetch Raven," was all he said, before rinsing the infant in the sink, barely large enough to fit inside.

No breathing. He put his mouth to the infant's and sucked out the mass of excrement and mucous clogging it, before spitting it out into the sink and letting it wash down with the water.

Pinching his nose, he applied CPR, inhaling before breathing in, pumping his chest before breathing in again. Just then, Raven came, as did a paramedic.

As he prepared to breathe in again, Aziz heard a heartbeat. Then the infant begun to suck in air, opened his mouth and wailed.

Raven looked at him, and thought she saw a faint smile across his face, before the Black Tiger collapsed to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Joke of Despair** **Part 3**

_The rape was vicious. He forced himself into her mind, violating her memories, baring them in the full spectrum of their experience for her compatriots to view. The physical rape that he had enacted on her beforehand was nothing compared to what she was going through now._

_Soon, it was finished. He cleaned himself of her fluids, orgasms forced from her against her will. She had raped and tortured several of the agents under his command, men and women both, and he had returned the favour several times over. Her screaming had echoed through the chamber, cunningly wrought acoustic channels bringing it to the cells of the prisoners. Her head lolled, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. He called in the medical team to attend to her before exiting the interrogation room. As he left, she curled up into a foetal position and began to sob, her will broken, her dignity destroyed. _

_He looked on as the numerous prisoners were forced to undergo the horrific torture of the 'Embrace of Pain', a creature bioengineered as a teaching tool, used both to restrain and torture prisoners. The Embrace of Pain resembled a living rack, with its prisoner suspended facedown by restraint bands. When the victim was tortured, the creature's sophisticated nerve web read the electrochemical output of the victim's nerve impulses and evaluated the victim's brain chemistry. The Embrace of Pain used this data to keep pain at constant and optimum levels. It covered a whole spectrum of pain, from a minor irritation to full-blown agony, with every single pain receptor in the body amplified to maximum levels. He had endured it for over a thousand hours as part of his training, eventually becoming immune to its effects altogether._

_Similarly, other prisoners were subject to nerve induction; agonising pain, as well as incandescent heat, freezing cold and hard vacuum were simulated_ _by direct electrical stimulation of the nerves. Again, he had gone through that, forced himself to go through that. His threshold for pain had increased to the point where he could break a bone and still keep operating at near peak efficiency._

_Based in the MIO-N stealth frigate at the edge of a Jarhaila frontier star system, they were performing reconnaissance and other intelligence-gathering, as well as sabotage, in advance of the main Sons of Mediter assault, aided by several auxiliary units from the Janthril Royal Custodians, Saharan Warguard, the Ilham-Janthril military and the Demons of Abzenor Space Marine Legion from the Nuevo Arcturus Star Imperium. The Black Tiger Society's Military Intelligence Office-Neraka was simply providing the advance intelligence, as they were the nearest available personnel with the requisite skills._

_When he was back in his bunk, he looked at himself, stared hard into the mirror, at the one face in the entire universe he hated more than anything. Without a word, he smashed the mirror, and kept on punching it, until it finally fell to the floor in fragments, coated red with blood. He held his dog tags, squeezed the cool metal in his palm, felt the serial number and rank engraved into them. He knew what they read; Aziz Yap Gang Hu, alias Chirag Nair. That and a hundred other aliases, courtesy of working in the espionage trade for the past hundred years._

_He looked at the quote pasted on his door._

"_The man who conquers himself in his mind is superior to the one who conquers a thousand others in battle."_

_Slowly, he realised that he was inferior indeed._

_Aziz was 384 years old._

**WWW**

After several tests, they had a single lead. After applying CPR to the infant, who was now recovering in the pediatric ward, Aziz had simply collapsed. The infant was doing well, the mucous having blocked any drugs from entering his system.

ECGs showed abnormal brain activity and neurochemistry was unbalanced. If anything, the attending doctors had said they had never encountered anyone as healthy as Aziz, in the physiological and physical sense of the word, excepting perhaps his current neurochemical state.

Raven and Starfire had watched as they had placed electrodes on his body, hooked him up to monitors. They had already made a call to Robin, who had told them to stay with him, while Beast Boy remained at the crime scene, his sensitive nose needed for tracking any possible trace scents.

As far as medical science could tell, he was in some kind of coma. Oddly enough, Raven found he was in a catatonia usually associated with a powerful psionic backlash. Raven had sensed a power unlike anything she had ever experienced, as if time was a waterfall cascading in resonance, when she had briefly touched his mind, powerful mental barriers keeping out unwanted psychic intrusions, even unconscious. Barriers that she doubted even the Martian Manhunter could overcome.

She sometimes wondered what he was thinking, this mysterious boy with eyes of grey, filled with sorrow and danger, yet somehow opaque, never revealing the depth of emotion she had sensed beneath.

Raven had finally found someone even more mysterious and less forthcoming than herself, and she was not entirely sure that she liked it.

**WWW**

Because he suppressed his prescience so much, sometimes the feedback was tremendous. However, when it had come to him then, the shatterpoint in time, combined with the trace amount of the strange chemical compound within his body, had shocked his system.

Shrugging it off as much as he could, he fought and clawed his way through the various layers of his mind, back towards consciousness, as impressions and emotions associated with the visual scenes revealed to him. The power was struggling, trying to rise within him, but his grasp on mortality was strong…for now. The prescient visions ebbed and flowed, inundating him in a morass of time, fluid and relative, paradoxically deterministic and asynchronous events happening.

A powerful shatterpoint had been revealed to him, and the infant had something to do with it, as far as he could interpret. The infant was initiating a shatterpoint in time, in the process leading up to his death, an immutable, unchangeable event. Somehow, he sensed the infant changed events for the better, in regards to the Titans. Its presence shaped the future in a manner favourable to the Titans, as well as to Anya, he sensed.

His death was a fixed, immutable event. He hadn't dared to look beyond, for the power could claim him if he extended his abilities, physical, mental, psionic and spiritual in any way, in any domain. He only used his chi, and even then, a miniscule amount, to be able to be as strong as he was. He imposed limits on himself, at the event horizon, teetering on the edge of mortality and transcendence beyond all that he held dear.

If he had to die to maintain whatever remained of his mortality, to finally end this wandering after so long, to exist in these worlds of suffering and joy that he had endured as no human should endure, he would follow that path to its very end.

Yet, now the visions were flowing backwards, showing him his past, his present. Those he had murdered; infants, children, women, men, soldiers, lovers, parents, siblings, families….

_As did the universes and countless cosmic entities; non-physical and spatial, abstract and spiritual, magical and divine, celestial and infernal, unholy and hellish, supernatural and metaphysical; even the gods and deities and countless spirits and beings of all forms and shapes. Those he had devoured when taking upon himself the burden of Rukt._

And in the end, after he had given all of himself, all he had left in the void was his guilt.

Applying himself, Aziz battled against the tide of personalities and memories, branching off a portion of his consciousness; a physiokinesthetic awareness of his biochemistry, as he rapidly disassembled the exotic chemical structure before him, taking it apart a molecule at a time. While most toxins had no effect on him, being that he was able to metabolise it, he had been shocked by the revealed shatterpoint.

As the prescience slowly ebbed, and the _power_ receded, once more suppressed, he accelerated the process. Within minutes, he would be conscious again.

**WWW**

_Why do we laugh at clowns? Very often we see them performing the routines that were named after the main tool of their trade; slapstick, where the clowns engage each other in seemingly funny exchanges involving ladders and buckets of water. One of the clowns invariably gets hurt… and yet we laugh at them._

_So what does this mean? Do we like laughing at other people's misfortunes? It would appear so._

_But that only holds true as long the misfortunes continue to happen to other people; the clowns. What would happen if the clowns decided that __they__ wanted to see somebody else's misfortune for a change?_

**WWW**

Joculare snapped the neck of the night shift nurse, feeling bones give way beneath the powerful grip of his hand. However, he took none of the joy he usually did in carrying out his 'art'. For the first time in a long time, he was angry.

_How dare the child survive? How dare these…__ imbeciles__ rescue a child that was supposed to be a part of his artwork?_

He had organised it perfectly, passing the tainted drugs to a dealer, to test its efficacy. He had observed them all die with the customary satisfaction of a job well done… yet an infant had the temerity to defy him; to survive and live despite the insurmountable odds he had arranged for it.

This was something Joculare could not and would not condone. He would kill the infant, return with the corpse to the crime scene, depositing the infant in the corners of the room, dissecting its fragile body and using the blood to create a masterpiece in homage to Pollock.

It had been an easy enough task to infiltrate the hospital. After all, how many people suspected a clown bearing balloons, who claimed to be entering the paediatric ward? Of course, the fact that it had been midnight had aroused suspicion from the night nurse. Breaking his back in two and folding him before shoving him into a cupboard, he armed himself with syringes filled with air, taking a detour at the maternity ward.

He would take his time and work his way down there, but first he had to apply his skills to the death of newborns. He had always wondered how newborns died if air was injected into their bodies. Would they suffer greatly from an air embolism?

As he entered the hushed room, filled with units of swaddled, children, a twisted smile came over his face. His one thought was simple.

_Let's see if the Joker can ever top this._

**WWW**

Starfire shuddered, shivers running down her spine. Somehow, she felt uneasy, her intuition firing off like a Thrombul before slaughter. Or like the time Galfore had taken her on a hunt of a Novok, a mighty beast of the plains and the most feared predator of Tamaran.

She looked to Raven, hesitating, before asking. Raven was always composed, and now her face was no different as before.

"Friend Raven, please…" Starfire began, trailing off; afraid to ask in apprehension of the answer she might receive. "Will he be alright?"

"He will Star. Aziz is nothing if not the most stubborn, annoying person in my life at the moment, next to Beast Boy. He'll make it." She remembered how since entering the Titans and creating the position of her bodyguard, he was somehow always near her, always ready to intervene on her behalf, and in the process absorbing several attacks for her, always guarding her back.

"But, Friend Raven, do you feel…the shivers?"

Raven knew for a fact that Starfire was never cold. Even when they had been in the Siberian tundra where they first met Red Star, she had miraculously managed to ignore the subzero temperatures, wearing her normal miniskirt and top.

It was a virtue of Tamaranean physiology, which allowed her to absorb ultraviolet radiation and powered her in much the same way as the now (almost) extinct Kryptonians, fortifying her cellular structure and allowing her to create her powerful star bolts and survive the vacuum of space. Apparently they did not even have to breathe.

'So,' thought Raven, 'how is it that a race so amazingly resilient can still be so susceptible to emotion?'

Intuitively, she reached out for Starfire, holding her hand in a rare display of physical familiarity to her figurative sister. She felt the unease, and took it away, soothing her and easing her mind. Raven did not betray that somehow, she felt the same unease as Starfire. Possibly the worst thing was that she couldn't even identify exactly why. As Raven knew full well, the one thing that humans fear most is uncertainty, and the fact that she was only half-human did not change matters.

**WWW**

Idimmu sat silently outside the infant's room. It had been one of the few instances where Aziz had actually done a limited kything with him; a sort of wordless, mind to mind communication in which one person, in essence, almost became another, seeing through their eyes and feeling through their senses. In such a frame of mind, the two people involved intuitively knew the meaning of what the other was telling them, disregarding such things as words or pictures.

As such, he had shown up at the hospital unannounced, acting as a makeshift guard for the infant.

Given that Aziz seeing a shatterpoint was a rare event, he was taking this seriously. If the infant was the beginning of one, he would defend the infant. Time paradoxes were not something he liked to play with. He trusted Aziz, and Sophia above all else, with his life.

Anya was inside, playing with the child and soothing it. She had a natural affinity for infants, able to soothe and calm them down when they were distressed. She was a clairsentient; able to sense and perceive the auras of beings around her. It was an ability that was both a curse and a blessing.

**WWW**

Joculare twirled the syringe around his fingers, before jabbing it into the soft, yielding flesh of the infant. In the room with him were 15 dead infants, looking like they were soundly asleep. He would find the infant that had escaped, and would rend his body apart, before preparing an infusion of the blood for his backer. His backer found infant's blood to be a delicacy on par with _foie gras_He covered the mouth and felt the delightful shudders of the dying body, the life slipping away.

Checking the patient records, he had found the child. One 'Baby Doe' in Room 412, right next to the nursing station. The child's life belonged to him.

Putting on the fake smile that filled children with laughter yet an undercurrent of unease, he walked out of the maternity ward, having claimed a total of sixteen lives. As far as he was concerned, it was a good start, much as a good background is to a painter.

As he left, he nodded to the nurse that came into the ward, going from unit to unit, checking on the individual children.

As he entered the elevator, he heard a muffled cry of shock, and then heard the sound of pounding footsteps, as the woman raced to alert the resident paediatrician. A contented smile crossed his face as the door closed.

**WWW**

Idimmu was on the fire escape with the duty nurse, chatting and taking in the night air. It was a quiet night in the hospital, and he'd decided to strike up a conversation with the resident nurse, given there wasn't much else to do. Surprisingly, he'd found out she was a nursing student part-timing as a lingerie model, to pay her way and her brothers course through medical school, but had though of going into modelling full time once she finished her course. Her name was Izusa Hurley.

Then, a terrible screech came, as Anya screamed; "**D****JADJA!" **Idimmu jolted at the sound of her scream, before racing to the room as fast as his legs could, while Izusa rose in alarm, a look of fright on her face.

He leapt into action, accelerating as fast as his cybernetic legs could. The door fell away before the power of his charge as though it were plywood. He saw a clown in front of Anya raise a syringe, bearing down on Anya and the infant. She was shielding it with her body, trapped in a corner of the room.

With a yell of rage, Idimmu launched himself at the clown, grappling with the clown in these close quarters. The syringe slipped, falling onto the floor. Clinching the clown, he delivered vicious knee strikes to the rib cage and abdomen, making sure to crack the bones with hammer blows from his hardened knees. He slammed his forehead against the clown's chest, winding him and sprawling him backwards.

The clown fought back, drug fuelled muscles gripping tightly at the arms that were throttling him, before the clown picked a scalpel and sliced it across his face. Idimmu was sent reeling, as he clutched his eye, the pain radiating outwards as the fluid leaked from his laceration. He screamed in pain, before he felt a powerful blow strike his head, stunning him. The clown had picked up a bedpan and was using it to bludgeon him.

Powering through the pain, he grabbed the nearest object and thrust it into the clown's face, before delivering a powerful front kick to the groin, to make space between himself and the clown. He felt the fragile organs rupture beneath the blow.

He activated the fight calculator, in preparation for dealing with the intruder, letting the pain disruptors subdue the pain radiating from the injury, blood drooling down his face from the ruined mess of his eye socket.

Raising himself up, he stared at the clown, legs awkward from the crushed organs in between, but ignorant of the pain, adrenaline suffusing muscles and giving him the strength to endure.

From his good eye, he noted the clowns' eyes following Anya as she inched towards the door, Idimmu partly shielding her, the swaddled infant crying from the noise and disturbance. Already, he could hear the foot steps of the hospital orderlies as they rushed to the room, drawn by the disturbance, while Izusa appeared at the door, trembling hands clutching a fire extinguisher.

**WWW**

Joculare was not a trained fighter, but had brawled long enough to know when to attack, and when to retreat.

He was taller, at 183 cm, or six feet, while his opponent was just under five foot seven, or about 170 cm. Similarly, their builds were different, products of different lifestyles. He was rangy and tall, his muscles fuelled by exotic combinations of narcotics and steroids, while the other was lean with muscle, adhering to a trim frame that exuded physical fitness and power, screaming endurance and strength in fluid movements. The one in front of him was bionically enhanced in some way. No one had legs that hard or strong.

His opponent knew what he was doing, and frankly, Joculare did not want to fight. His ribs were cracked, the pain rising even through his mental haze, while he felt his testicles swelling with blood, the damaged tissues ruptured from the force of the blow. It came through a haze of a Bamapana cocktail with steroids, synthetic epinephrine and endomorphines and psychoactive chemicals distilled from psilocybin mushrooms, more commonly called 'magic mushrooms'. In an extended fight, in close quarters like this, with no space for him to use his acrobatics, he was very likely to lose in a fight.

He searched the probabilities, seeking a way out for himself; an escape. He had always been naturally lucky, and now he put that luck to use, as he felt for the probability strand and grabbed on to it, his actions instinctively following the smooth flow of it.

Besides being an incredible acrobat, though nowhere near Robin's level, he had the metahuman ability to turn probability to his favour. It was a primary reason why he had started murdering randomly, simply to add more chaos to the beautiful weave of luck, fate, probabilities and random chance. He saw a beauty in it, rendering the probability of life in the individuals around him as random and asynchronous as possible.

Staring hard at the bleeding man in front of him, he chose the way of escape, flipping and throwing sharpened razors at the girl and the child she held. He doubted that they would escape; spaced as widely as they were, the razors were also tipped with Bamapana and Joker toxin. The nurse ran to shield the child, screaming, while the injured man moved, headed straight for the girl.

The man raised his legs, letting several of the razors smash into them, shattering on the hardened titanium alloy, before his body shifted into the path of the other razors, which by then were already behind him. He was too late.

A split second before the razors slammed into the girl and infant, a black blur formed a protective shell around the child, resolving into a figure costumed in black, stripped to the waist, the razors slicing into his body, cutting through the flesh. A brief overpressure followed, a minor shock, as the air was displaced by the rapid movement.

Just then, Raven and Starfire appeared. Joculare knew them; the resident heroes of the city and the powerhouses of the Titans, Starfire with her strength and Raven with her telekinesis.

Setting off a smoke grenade, he back-flipped and somersaulted like a master _traceur_ of parkour, launching himself off a wall, his legs tensed and knees bent as he threw himself forward through the emergency exit. The orderlies who had come to the aid of the nurse were in confusion. Using what valuable time he could, he threw more razors into their general direction, before he saw a telekinetic barrier form, protecting them.

Behind him, he threw more melta grenades, letting the blast's flash melt the concrete walls as their molecules heated up under the heat of the fusion reaction caused by microwave radiation agitated pyrum-petrol mix that sprayed from the grenades.

**WWW**

Abruptly, Aziz's eyes popped open. In a flash of movement, he ripped the IV needle and electrodes off his body, as he rose from the bed and dashed for the emergency stairs.

_Anya_.

Starfire and Raven stared blankly before it registered that their formerly unconscious friends was now a blur of motion, before Starfire flew after him, barely able to keep up, as she watched him bodily slam through the six inch thick steel door before leaping down the stairs a flight at a time.

Raven followed closely, unsure of where he was headed. She could have teleported to wherever it was he was going, but with no idea as to where it was, it was best to follow him.

Aziz cursed silently. The trace amount of narcotic could have easily been metabolised by his body with no ill effect within minutes, but it had come at the same time as seeing a shatterpoint, hampering his ability to do so. A glance at the time told him it had been only a few hours. It was already nearing midnight, on a Friday.

He had _felt _Anya's danger; her fear. It radiated through the paternal bond that held him to her. Somehow it had reacted with him, and produced anger. But this was not the unfocused anger known as rage; this was anger compressed into a smaller space, cold, clinical and lethal.

He careened through another door, before seeing the open door, the trembling nurse wielding a fire extinguisher. He dashed for the room, just as he saw the nurse rush in. It all happened in a split second. He saw Idimmu throwing himself in front of Anya, legs extended to intercept and kick the razors out of the air; saw the razors as they followed their path to impact directly on her. The nurse was moving too slowly.

He moved in a burst of superhuman speed, before decelerating enough to cradle her, forming a shell around his body. He felt the razors slam into him, the toxin flowing into him.

Within a few seconds, he had neutralised it, his biochemistry metabolising the poison and rendering it inert, as carbon linkages and intermolecular forces reacted in the fluid medium of his blood, chlorine and fluorine structures coming apart under the biochemical reactions consciously induced by him, brute force disassembling the toxins.

The clown was fast, moving out in a cloud of smoke and throwing explosives behind him. Raven and Starfire would handle the situation outside.

He bent over Anya, as his spirit reached out to her. She whimpered slightly, breathing out a single word.

"_Dad_"

He felt her terror, at having touched an aura so insane and foul that she had retreated into her mind, locking herself away from the outside world. Then he felt the dead, the souls of the infants and the young nurse who had been killed in such an irreverent manner, like so much refuse… he felt them tell him their stories, as they poured their short lives into him, as he lived them until their moment of expiry.

_Joculare… you will die. You will suffer for violating my daughter. You will suffer for the murders you have done. I promise you this. I will cut your life short. Ecthul' kurnda haseath el'a Karas'thy Raksa._

Slowly, he held her forehead to his chin, rocking her and whistling underneath his breath a series of tunes he had subconsciously implanted to purge her conscious mind of any taint and memory, putting her into a state of sleep. He felt the psychic damage, and he slowly dropped his barriers, letting a part of his chi dissipate into her, a tiny mote, before sealing it off as it became too dangerous for him to do so. With the flow of energy, the dead went with it, the brief stream of light flowing from an ocean of darkness and death, shrouding the heart of a galaxy.

Idimmu was worse off, as he clutched his bleeding eye and the nurse fussed over him. His pain receptors were still suppressed, but one could see the damage to the soft tissues there.

He briefly bent over him, sending his chi into Idimmu, clotting the bleeding and closing the flesh. It would not do to let the Titans bear witness to his abilities. Not too many of them. It would raise questions, and the burden was his to bear alone, and no one else's.

Talking to Idimmu, he shifted to Malay, a language from the Indonesian archipelago and the Malayan Peninsula. Most people in the U.S.A. were not even aware of Malaysia's existence, so speaking in this tongue was a fair bet to retain secrecy.

Idimmu, go to Sophia's penthouse. I will handle the infant. She'll flash clone a new eye for you. Make sure the Black Dragons take care of Anya. 

Affirmative… Aziz, you will have to tell us about the infant. Sophia wishes to know. A warning as well; _t__hey _are here. Achyuta has deployed one to here covertly. 

They will be handled. Just bring her to Sophia. The infant will come with me. 

With that, he picked up the infant and calmly walked out of the room.

**WWW**

Robin wasn't sure exactly how to react when he was told by the hospital authorities that they had released an infant into the custody of the Titans. Moreover, he wasn't sure how to feel when he was told that their newest member had not only precipitated the entire event, by calmly telling the hospital administrator exactly what he was doing, but had also told the police exactly where they could shove it, in an extremely polite and non-confrontational manner. A rookie cop had put a gun to his face and had been promptly disarmed when they'd tried to stop him from taking the child away.

The hospital authorities were tentatively supportive of placing the infant in the Titans' custody, as there wasn't much they could do about it in the first place. Similarly, it made the most sense, and they were rather public about it, to avoid a repeat of the massacre orchestrated by Joculare. The junior police inspector present at the scene had agreed with the assessment, and recommended it as such. If there was a single safe place for the infant, it was at Titans tower, given the demonstrated ability of Joculare.

In the process of trying to kidnap the infant, as well as the massacre in the maternity ward, Joculare had signed his death warrant. Aziz had silently put out a directive for him to be killed, already transmitted to Sophia and her Black Dragons. While he followed a non-lethal policy as part of the Titans, and based in the U.S.A., he had resources he could use to deal permanently with certain opposition.

Right now, Robin was seated at the dining table, across from Batman, the others having retired to their rooms. Starfire was waiting in his room, as was now usual. The change in the status of their relationship had raised some eyebrows, but then again, it was none of their business, as far as he was concerned. It was his personal life, and it did not concern them in the least. Sure that they now had privacy, he took off his mask, while Batman remained with his cowl on.

"Bruce, what do you have so far?"

"Not much, but I have other business in Jump City. Specifically, Bruce Wayne has business in Jump City. I'm negotiating a deal with Creed Pharmaceuticals to buy out their 'R & D' unit. Not only that, but I am pursuing some clues that link the assassination of a Mafia godfather in Gotham to an assassin called Jaras. He's supposed to be as good, if not better than Richard Dragon or Deathstroke for that matter."

"Good luck with that." Robins' eyes visibly narrowed at the mention of Deathstroke's name. He was still an obsession, though less of one now that he had a strong relationship to counterbalance his innate obsessive drive.

"Ha, you know me Dick. I'm the 'World's Greatest Detective' after all." As he rose to exit the tower, Batman gave a final warning to his young ward; stopping and glancing backward, the following was said in a soft, low tone; "I suggest you watch out that your relationship with the alien girl does not get too intimate. Remember Dick, professionalism. Get in, have your fun, get out. And I suggest you watch your newest member as well. Something's off about him…"

Dick stood up rigidly, muscles visibly tensed. Until now, he'd been able to suppress any anger and remain civil to Batman, had even begun to warm to him again, to the man he respected above all else, his father figure. But _no one_ talked about Starfire and their relationship that way. Slowly, memories of an aborted friendship and young love rose to the surface, before he hissed at Bruce in a rare outburst.

"Get out. Before I lose it Bruce… get the hell out of my home."

Batman looked at Robin with the dark look he favoured everyone with, before turning his back to him and walking down the staircase. Trembling with rage, Dick slowly sank back into the seat, before standing up and going back to his room. He needed her.

_He needed Starfire._

**WWW**

Raven lay on the sofa, cradling the sleeping child, which was swaddled in a blue cotton towel. It had been distraught at first with the change in environment, until she had started to hum a quiet tune, lilting and beautiful in its structure, a quiet, wordless tune that had reached into her subconscious.

She reached out to the child, projecting warmth and protection to it, remembering what it had been like for her as a child in Azarath, hearing her nursemaid sing to her, the closeness and protection. She summoned it all, cocooning the sleeping child in a peaceful, serene aura of safety.

She felt its roiling emotions quieting down, now that it knew safety. As she hummed, a complementing note began to rise as she turned and saw Aziz in his customary pose, sitting in a lotus position on the lounge next to the sofa, his figure visible against the faint backdrop of lights from the city, shining through the window.

It was a complex weave, a low whistle overlaying a harsh baritone note, then a tenor, adding a profound depth to her humming. As her humming slowly died down, it became a song of beauty, as he sang silently to the infant, in a language not of that universe, ethereal and soft, comforting, summoning memories of a place that all beings had to leave behind, of parents love and of family, security and laughter.

She sensed in her heart a primal ache, and felt a sudden empathy, as she heard an obvious _longing_ in his words, as the song came to a close.

"What language is that? I've never heard that song before," she asked in a soft voice, careful not to wake the child. Even at her volume, she knew he could hear it. His senses were acute.

"It is Teza. An… uncommon language. It is a song of memories and times you might have had as a child."

In the darkness, she reached out a hand and grabbed his, just above the wrist. Slowly, she moved it into his palm, intertwining her fingers with his and she squeezed, feeling comfortable warmth, the powerful sinews, and she reached out to him with her heart, before she felt a bond she had never felt before, linking him and her. Maybe the bond had been there before; maybe it had just never been acknowledged yet.

She looked into his eyes, and saw a flicker of something, of a compassion layered on top with a frightening ruthlessness, of kindness hardened by war and strife, but a powerful kindness nonetheless, and knew intuitively that here was someone who would always be loyal. Even if she stood before the power of hell and death was at her side, he would be. _Just like Robin._

So unlike any male in her life so far, he was far too serious and mature for someone of 16 years, and too much unlike Robin at times, with a quiet, contemplative nature and staggering indifference, and diametrically opposite to Beast Boy, that _precious_ fool whom she always had to prevent herself from laughing in front of. No, he was a different species altogether, like one of the ethereal beings she had briefly encountered once as a child, when sitting beside Azars' throne.

"Aziz, please tell me about your childhood. You're so enigmatic, and you never share anything of yourself with us. We're your friends. Even I don't know what your favourite colour is, and you're practically my shadow."

Silence reigned for a full minute, before he began to talk. The timbre of his voice was even, betraying little emotion, as he started matter-of-factly.

"I had a… difficult childhood…"

**WWW**

Robin looked on surreptitiously from the kitchen, as he drew a Gatorade pack from the fridge. He watched as Raven held hands with Aziz, and briefly, a spark of jealousy flared in him, then shame. It could be nothing. They were close friends, and nothing more. But as anyone like Robin, who had trained under the likes of Batman, could quite easily tell you; _there are always 'if's._

When the Titans had first formed, he'd been torn between Raven and Starfire. Eventually, he had chosen Starfire. As dedicated as they both were to each other, sometimes he felt ashamed, feeling as if something was missing.

While he was Starfire's boyfriend and close friends with Raven, he couldn't deny that Raven was an attractive girl, and he did have an intimate mental bond with her, something that he shared with no one else; not even Starfire. While it was mostly dormant, it was there. Ever since he had gone to the borders of Trigon's Hell itself, for the sake of the world and the sake of a close friend he held dear.

Raven had a darkness that appealed to him, just as it did to Beast Boy. Starfire had noticed it first, the tension that existed, the sidelong looks at times from Beast Boy. Robin knew exactly how he felt, had gone through the same thing. She possessed an… _inviting_ darkness, like the night that brought the peace of sleep; contentment.

Yet, he was afraid; ashamed. Was it nothing but the desire of lust? Didn't Starfire offer him enough; improve him? She was so loyal to him, so loving, so committed to him, and yet, he felt as if there was something lacking. The feeling; that he wanted more. Did he even _deserve_ Starfire?

Leaving the kitchen, he returned to his study room, saw the photos of the Black Tiger scattered on the wall, the thin folder that had been all he could find so far, minimal clues pointing to something. Their new member had a hidden past, and he was determined to find out what it was, if he wasn't forthcoming with them.

Leaving the folio on the table, he opened the door connecting to his own room, and saw Starfire stir in the blankets, her eyes glowing expectantly as she looked at him in the darkness.

Hesitantly, he got under the sheets, reaching for her, feeling the warmth of her flesh as they drew closer together under the sheets, and he embraced her, falling into her as he stared into the eyes of the person who loved him even more than she loved her own family. And slowly, sleep overtook him, as both faced the other.

**WWW**

Beast Boy was finding it difficult to sleep, as he often seemed to these nights. Fortunately, he was saved the agony of uncertainty by actually knowing what the problem was, but that lessened the sting of the problem only by a fraction of a degree.

Everyone knew about Robin and Starfire's recent 'escalation' in their relationship, even if they did not talk about it. Beast Boy admitted to himself that he found Starfire gorgeous in physical appearance, but… that was not enough. The blithe Tamaranian may have helped Robin see the lighter side to life, but Beast Boy already knew about all that. He wanted something different, and Raven had that _something_.

He had, of course, as Robin had earlier, come to the inevitable argument that he only really wanted Raven for her body. It was definitely exceptional, but so was Starfire's, if not more so, and he did not feel anywhere near as much an urge in her case. In the end, decided Beast Boy, it is as the old saying goes; it is not so much what you have as how you use it.

In the same way that it is more likely that partners will find each other more attractive if their genetic code is as different as possible, Garfield found himself constantly intrigued by her nature, which was about as diametrically opposite to his as possible. It was not anything as simple as the ancient erroneous cliché of 'opposites attract'; humans, as far as physical science knows, do not generate strong magnetic fields.

There are many kinds of opposition, depending on which feature you choose to compare. For example; people say fire and water are opposites, but how is that so? If you choose to compare them in terms of temperature, there is such a thing as hot water, which becomes another classical element in any case once it evaporates, and if it is indeed opposite to fire by being cold then it becomes ice, proving the entire argument completely without base. The only sense in which fire is opposite to water is in terms of aridity, and even then it is possible to generate fire within water.

A particular feature of opposition between Raven and Beast Boy did indeed attract; one way if not both. She possessed a rapier-sharp cynicism that could devastatingly dissect Beast Boy's more jester-like humour when she chose that it should. Most people in his position would find this infuriating, but to Beast Boy it was more like a challenge.

In the same way that the mere existence of a mountain is a challenge to a mountaineer even without any provocation, the wall that Raven put up around herself whenever he tried to talk to her only made him more intrigued. He was apprehensive as to what he would find on the other side, but Garfield decided it would be worth it. So far, the only person he could truly say she had opened herself too was Starfire.

After all, it was better than staring at your dark ceiling and eternally wondering, swamped in uncertainty. And, as Raven knows all too well, uncertainty is what the human mind fears most…


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this. A lot of things to deal with in personal life. Training in MMA and Muay Thai, balancing studies and a prospective girlfriend, working part-time, preparing for exams. The grit of real life. A lot of exposition and monologue as I'm developing the background, but will be back to character development within the next few chapters. Sorry, but some stretches of this story are slow, I know.**

**Again, please R&R. I understand the last chapter didn't get any review as of 9/5/2007, and I'm wondering if it had anything to do with the nature of it. Review, send me your feedback, and we can collaborate to improve this story and make it great.**

**Again, take note that this is a MATURE story, and WILL have GRAPHIC content. If you can handle it, read. If you can't, you don't have any business reading it in the first place.**

**Teen Titans are property of DC Comics, trademarks are property of respective owners, themes and other original content present in this story are mine.**

**Joke of Despair** **Part 4**

Aziz told Raven of his childhood. It had of course been many centuries ago, but that was classified information on a strictly need-to-know basis, and Raven didn't need to know.

However, there was something else not known, this time on Aziz's side. Raven was holding his hand in hers, and even this simple action made him somehow feel paradoxically both comforted and uncomfortable simultaneously.

The mere fact that he was feeling anything when Raven held his hand meant that he had some kind of bond to her, something he was trying to suppress; even with Anya, whom he was beginning to accept as his daughter.

He knew all about bonds. People grew attracted to each other; started to love each other… and then, when the bond was broken, as it inevitably would be, it could only bring suffering and emotional distress.

_But the hand remained._

He began the story.

"My parents' families were wealthy ones. My parents, their parents before them, all my ancestors; they always maintained that we were minor aristocracy descended from the ancient Persian and Greek empires. Decades of intermarriage among my ancestors gave us a very confusing heritage sometimes. I'm descended from Ashkenazi Jews, from Scotsmen, from Norwegians and Greeks, Chinese and Assamese. Simply, my family had the blood of a thousand warrior cultures running through their veins. This was on both sides of my family. I tell you this so that you understand my background; I am the by-product of an illegitimate affair."

"On my fathers' side, you could trace our Asiatic ancestry, Indo-Aryan, Dravidian, Han Chinese, Pashtun, Tajik, Circassian, Druze, Arab, Japanese, Korean, Russian, Mongolian, Melanesian, Polynesian, Samoan, Fijian, Malay, Thai, Vietnamese, Burmese, Gorkhali, Assamese, Sikkimese, Laotian, Cambodian, Korean, Kazakh and Russian and so on. I could keep on going, but you get the basic idea."

"From my mother, I got Maori, Scottish, Welsh, German, West African, Zulu, Pathan, Baloch, Bengali, Awan, Cheema, Dogra, Garwhali, Gujjar, Gurkha, Irish, Jat, Javanese, Kumaoni, Minhas, Mohyal, Scottish, Rajput and Yadava blood, along with a healthy bit of Moroccan, Algerian, Spanish, Italian, Turkish, Nubian, Habeshan, Zulu, Ashanti, Yoruba, Fulani, Hausa and Bedouin. I've got the blood of most of the major historical civilisations flowing within me, and then some."

Raven eyes widened slightly. She knew he was mixed, but not to that extent.

She herself was exempt from filling in the census forms; given that the U.S.'s bureaucratic systems find it hard enough to accept that someone might have lost a finger in an industrial accident when recording fingerprints, the fact that her father was a demon lord and her place of birth was an extradimensional plane of existence called Azarath might give them slightly more than their regulation-bound minds would be capable of dealing with.

Of course, now she better understood where _her_ own unsolicited attraction to him came from. His mixed genetics; laden with the history, heritage and pride, as well as its own atrocities, stretching back to the dawn of time.

"My parents were the 'dark horses' of their family. Both were from successful families. My father was from a long line of military and police personnel, government officials, doctors, lawyers and engineers. My mother came from an ancient family with old money, made from trading in spices during the British colonial times in the Caribbean and South East Asia. Her family consisted of mostly businessmen and traders, as well as artists, scientists and a few philosophers here and there. She also had some triad, syndicate, mafia and cartel godfathers in her family. So yeah, there's a bit of criminal blood there as well. My maternal grandfather was one of the major triad brokers in South East Asia and East Asia, dealing with the Yakuza and La Cosa Nostra. Further back, we descended from the pirate lords of the Caribbean and South East Asia.

Anyway, my parents eloped as teenagers. They were destitute, but eventually improved to be able to provide for us, with some difficulty. I was the first child of four. My father got disowned, as he was the product of an affair between my paternal grandfather and his mistress, who eventually became his third wife. He was the favourite son of my grandfather, despite his illegitimacy, so the rest of the family hated him, as he brought shame to them, and was envied by them. He died in a police shooting. My mother died of a broken heart. She lost the will to live after his death."

_The memories came to him then. _

_His father slapped him, throwing him against the concrete wall. His five-year-old frame was wracked with pain, but he refused to cry. He sobbed, biting down on his lip until it bled, biting down on his toungue. If he cried, it would get worse._

"_You worthless piece of SHIT! You wet your bed again, didn't you? Son of a bitch!" The kick that came impacted him hard, sending him sprawling against the wall again. He bit down harder, drawing blood from his mouth._

_And so it continued, as he was viciously kicked, until finally, he started to cry. And it continued, until his father tired of it, and fell into a drunken stupor, the alcohol slowly draining from his system._

_His mother came to him, using lukewarm water to towel away the blood, clearing his matted hair, wiping the mucous from his face. Despite the harsh life, she had a beautiful face. She had high cheekbones, exquisite eyes with a strong, angular nose. They were green. He looked through swollen eyes to his father, sitting there on the dilapidated couch._

_He had a handsome face, gaunt, needle and knife scars riddling his arms, powerful muscles visible in the constant tensing and relaxing of his arms. Long hair reached down to shade his eyes as he rested; concealing harsh grey eyes that Aziz had inherited. Once he awakened, he would go out to work, and buy some expensive toy, trying to make it up to his son for his lack of control and alcoholism. He always did._

A pause, as he stopped to allow Raven to absorb his story. He was careful in his semantic choices; being sure to leave out how many untold ages ago it had happened, in a universe long since left behind, on a world that had nothing of worth to him.

He had revealed enough. Using a combination of language and tone in order to compel her into obedience on a subconscious level, yet at a level that she was unaware of, he compelled her to sleep. He did not wish to reveal anything of himself further. For tonight, it was enough.

"What happened to your family?"

"They're dead"

"Your family and relatives?"

"I…have no contact with them."

"Then, where is your home?"

"This tower is my home now. This city is my home."

"But, where did you come from?"

"Singapore."

He could see her eyes fluttering, as she fought the overwhelming urge to sleep. The urge was winning.

Slowly, he felt her hand relax; the muscles go slack with sleep, as her unresisting mind sunk into its embrace. He would have to work on that with her; to build up her mental resistance to external manipulation, if what he suspected was true.

The true agenda as to why he was guarding her was slowly being revealed. The urgency and importance of her life was laid open for all to see, given that a Black Dragon Silencer had been deployed to Jump City.

He had tarried with them before, and they were a foe he did not wish to confront in the current setting, given the incredible risk a single one posed to the entire team. In this case, he knew of ten Silencers, all commanded by Achyuta, and their imperative was simple; protect the Raven Queen. Should he die in the line of duty, they would step in.

And unlike him, they were hardened killers, each and every one, with a ruthlessness that put even David Cain to shame, and their generals possessed of combat skill rivalling his own, though nowhere near his actual level. They only cared about whether they achieved the ultimate objective of whatever they had in mind for Raven, caring for the overall goal and trampling over all the people in between.

He knew about countermeasures set in place should he ever go rogue, or as leverage against him. Specifically, Anya was one, and Sophia knew it. While she loved the child, he suspected she would not hesitate to kill her if ordered to do so by Rugal. She knew the true extent of the program as well. They were playing a game with him; pushing him to find out for himself, subtle hints and clues paving the way.

Folding her arm and placing her comfortably, he placed a blanket over her, making sure that she was warm in the air-conditioned interior of the tower. He looked at her, lying next to the infant, and somewhere within him something began to burn like an ember in the night. As far as he was concerned, he did not like where the emotions were heading. The emotions were stirring in him, and he did not like it one bit. He felt…_secure_.

Perhaps, just this once, he could allow himself to fall asleep, instead of patrolling the tower like he did. Just this once, he could be a normal human being and enjoy the contentment of sleep. For the first time in a long time, he felt secure enough to do so. What could possibly happen?

Slowly, he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. Anyone who knew him well would have been surprised, for he did not sleep unless he felt secure in a place or among the people. For the past few weeks, he had been the one constantly stalking, always on alert, requiring minimal sleep as it was.

The fact that was now asleep, as he was, for a brief time, more than anything, would have told the people who knew him what they needed to know.

**WWW**

"There is nothing wrong with collective societies; however they do not tend to be as innovative as individualist societies, taking into account the last four centuries of development where the Western world has dominated."

The thing I respect about collective societies is the strength of the nation as a whole, though not always the case, and the conservative values it instils, which translates to a population with desirable principles, such as morals, honour, and ethics. However, collective societies do have certain issues, mainly the fact that they adapt to change with difficulty, people losing basic freedoms, and elitists gaining control much more easily." Achyuta pointed out matter-of-factly.

"I agree with you Achyuta, but only so far. Look at China. Most people in the Western world remain unaware that there is democracy at the village and township level. The Chinese understand the role of democracy, but restrict it to the small levels. As you go up the ladder, democracy disappears. If done in a country of such a size, there would be chaos. Look at India. You have to examine the deep roots and philosophies of a civilization to truly understand the intricacies of it. Examine their histories if you will.

The Chinese understand the cyclical nature of civilization. Just as the USA had its zenith, they are now facing a decline, like any other major power, becoming a power among powers. Whether they will endure like the Chinese and Indians-_that_ is debatable. The Chinese and Indians will endure, because they have a stronger generational memory than the West. They are a culture of survivalists and generalists, and most importantly, they adapt. They assimilate and make you part of their own superculture."

"Agreed. They are also easier to control, as elitists set the trends, and the masses often follow. Why else would we start with India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and the Philippines? They are the easiest to control, with their elitists society easy enough to infiltrate if you have the money and the capacity for it. Now we'll end with that discussion. I have things to handle, Idimmu. Another time, but it was a pleasant conversation."

Seeing as the conversation was ended, Idimmu turned and left, unconsciously raising his hand to the raw red flesh around his newly implanted eye, cloned from genetic material stored in the gene bank. As he left, a shadowy figure stepped out of the darkness, light glinting and reflecting off a form encased in power armour, iridescent green and black mottling its surface, before turning nearly transparent. Beside him, a powerful figure stood by, slighter in height, with dark eyes brown eyes glinting in the dark, a golden armband reflecting the light of the city that shone through the window.

Just then, Sophia entered the room, her presence indicated by the clicking of her heels against the cool marble floor. With a signal, she dismissed the two, who bowed low at the hips before leaving.

"Achyuta, what are your own projections for the plan? The intent is to push Aziz beyond our influence, more specifically, beyond the influence of any of the major power players in this affair. We already know their intentions, and so far, Shath'Hal, Mogathor, Urenor and Rugal have been able to shield us from Karul's sight, at least we hope so. Aziz needs to become a wild card, beyond any control."

"Well, the plan is in place, and our brother is suitably misdirected, at least I hope he is. He has an uncanny ability to find out things. The others know nothing of the extent of the plans, but they are necessarily misinformed or not at all. Ah, and how goes the seduction of your latest stud?"

"You mean Bruce Wayne? He's a playboy after all, though that's just a façade. He's a very intellectual person, with a charismatic personality and excellent genetics. Talia already has a son by him, Ibn al Xu'ffasch, or Damian Wayne, one that he is unaware of. I would prefer to keep it that way for now. He could be of use in our eugenics program, given the quality of the child produced so far. I've seen the son, and he shares his father's physicality and intelligence. He is the product of the al Ghul and Wayne bloodlines after all. And I could learn to enjoy Bruce Wayne, for the time being. He is an attractive alpha male after all."

"Hmm. Are you still so confident in your calculations and projections? Mortals are still very unpredictable at times, and this one, Wayne by day and Batman by night, is one of those. Why do you even want your own genes implanted into the genepool?"

"Simple. The plan is more complex than it sounds. Rugal, Urenor, the Omniversal Elder Gods, the Ulthaj especially, could have created their own being via genesis or mutation of already existing materials, such as that originating from the Janthrils, Sahar and Saharan aristocracy. After all, Karul is the primogenitor of the Janthrils, and the power of the Ulthaj flows unsuppressed in the blood of the females of that family. They want something from Aziz, they want more than what he is, an awakening of something I don't know about. _Something beyond the Karas'thy Raksa_. The Raven Queen; she is to be induced as well, for her power as a demigod to be passed down the lines of her children."

Sophia continued; "By factoring in the Wayne and Grayson bloodlines, I have added in a check to the power, a genetic morality and moderator if you will. Their presence in the ancestral memory of their descendants will serve as a check against abuses. This agenda constructed by the ones beyond has multiple purposes, and even I cannot fathom it all. We know of the main purpose, to use the Raven Queen as a focal point, to culminate in a being of transcendent power and destiny. They're also using this as a catalyst for something else entirely, and I lack the information to know what that is."

"Hm… I'll leave it to you then. I do have reservations about this though. "

With a click of her heels, she turned and left, a faint flicker in the air around her the only indicator of her bodyguards. Intentional on their part; a message to the Black Dragon Silencer currently present. The Marine Elite were watching. She briefly stopped, turning her head back to look at Achyuta, her brown eyes boring into him.

"Achyuta."

"Yes?"

"One of the most terrible words in any language is 'Soldier'. The synonyms parade through human history: yogahnee, trooper, hussar, kareebo, cossack, deranzeef, legionnaire, sardaukar, fedayeen, marine, kshatriya, samurai ... I know them all. They stand there in the ranks of my memory to remind me: 'Always make sure you have the military with you.'"

"Your point?"

"Aziz was a soldier for very long, a warrior, and many other things besides. He's always put his duty above personal desires. I can only hope it continues to be so, because if he ever turns against us, all of us will regret what we have to do. Our duty…"

**WWW**

Joculare stood by the side of his employer. His abdominal muscles ached, the muscles bruised from absorbing the powerful blows of Idimmu. He had performed surgery on himself to removes the testes. Not that they would be missed. He had no use for them.

He looked on as the…_creature_ slowly sipped the infant's blood, swirling it around in his mouth, partaking of a wondrous delicacy sought after most fervently by certain beings. Incognito nodded as he sipped it, enjoying the taste. Behind him, a mirror showed only Joculare and the retinue he was a part of, with Incognito nowhere in sight, a clue to his true nature. Behind him another figure stood, cloaked in shadow and holograms. Cyrus Creed.

Three Bhagatur Minors formed a triangle around them, their eyes shifting around them, always vigilant. Mystically enhanced, they were a product of the training and genetic, mystical and cybernetic augmentation programs of the Ahriman Society.

Their physical fitness, stamina and strength was superhuman, far superior to any Olympic champion, with a nervous system operating beyond the apex of human capacity, granting superhuman reflexes rated at 0.005 seconds or 5 milliseconds with adrenaline, 40 times faster than the baseline human, and 0.020 seconds, or 20 milliseconds without. They communicated through a sophisticated web of pheromones, body language and instinctive telepathy.

The cybernetic augmentations came in the form of their superhardened bones, which were molecularly laced with silicon carbide and boron carbide, ceramics commonly used in the production of armour, as well as a superconductive nervous system consisting of superconductively fibrificated neural dendrites and myelin sheaths, enhanced with a series of implanted adrenal glands.

Stem cells permeating their blood allowed the gradual regrowth of nerves, muscles, bone and major organs over a period of weeks, as long as a wound wasn't fatal. Similarly, their strength was enhanced by protein complexes injected into their bodies, increasing muscle density and shortening lactase recovery time, coupled with electromotive muscle fibres grown via biotech means among the muscle tissue.

This allowed them to overhead press a mass approaching an upper limit of 2 metric tons, the bench press an inaccurate measure of their true strength, given that it recruited only the upper body. The overhead press was in essence a better measure, combining both lower and upper body strength, along with muscular endurance, to maintain.

This sheer strength also allowed them to overpower villains such as Bane, and combined with their superior agility, uncommon in men of their size, made a deadly combination.

Their further ability was the use of Nei Jin, the use of body in breathing as a single unit, 'internal power', and Qi, the use of their internal energies to augment their combat skills to formidable levels. Their mystical prowess, however, came as they aged, progressing with rank. Their commanders were anything _but_ mortal.

Born from clone vats, their genetic template was the assassin David Cain, and trained from young to operate as a ruthlessly efficient team. Trench coated as they were, they concealed a subdermal weave of nanoplate that robbed projectiles of their kinetic energy and cycled part of that energy into maintaining the integrity of the nanoplate, same as with the armour. Their bioelectric aura was noticeably enhanced as well, allowing them to generate strong force fields that enhanced their durability and resilience, as well as allowing for a high degree of telekinesis of up to 10 metric tons.

They were deployed in covert operation, other operations generally relying upon the Alip and Fedayeen androids. Deployed as bodyguards for high-level personnel or as enforcers, they were the iron-mailed fist of the Lord Imperial himself.

As the slow sipping of blood filled the dingy room, Cyrus was the first to speak. "We are displeased with the progress of your payment Incognito. _Very displeased_. Your initial reports were promising, but now, you tell me that you lack the ability to rally the covens to your side?"

"Oh…that trifling issue. Lord Cyrus, I have rallied them to my side. I just wished to summon you here to…renegotiate our deal."

"Renegotiate?"

Slowly, the Bhagatur eased into aggressive stances, prepared for violence. From the side door, a scratching could be heard, before it slowly opened, several vampires, fangs bared, entering the room carrying a variety of weapons, among them crowbars and assault rifles.

Vampires; deadly immortal beasts, they were humans, now dead, inhabited by demonic spirits. A vampire's personality could be the corrupt, opposite version of its human predecessor, or an expression of the human's hidden potential, as well as their fantasies and desires, held unchecked by the human soul. They were gifted with strength, stamina and constitution of metaphysical origins. Though it varied by individual and bloodline, it was considerable, growing as they aged, as did the other abilities that grew with their nature.

"You see, we are discontented with the current arrangement. Vampires will inherit this planet, with all its wealth. We bow to no one, we submit to no one. You can't expect my own coven, with five thousand years of history, to bow down do some…_mortal_."

The reply of Cyrus Creed was aggression, as he tensed, lightning crackling in deadly arcs over his body, the hairs rising on the necks of everyone in the room. Violence; viscous and flowing, it threatened to erupt.

"_Bhagatur, quell un thela'ha, Cuzu har __**Jorgumander**__!"_

With that single command, the Bhagatur lashed out, and Cyrus Creed fell back behind them, while Joculare disengaged, standing back to watch the ensuing massacre.

**WWW**

Bruce Wayne was a charming man with a public persona of a shallow playboy who often acted dim-witted and self-absorbed to throw off any possible suspicion as to who he really was. It was a persona that disguised the possibly most intelligent person on the planet, second to none, the others rated by those in the know as being Alexander Luthor, megalomaniacal businessman and mad scientist extraordinaire, and Michael Holt, the superhero Mister Terrific.

He was also a calculating businessman, easily more cunning and intelligent than Lex Luthor, and just as ruthless when it came to the kill, though edged with a powerful empathy for his employees.

Sophia Vittoria Mendes could be said to be human, though perhaps only her mental template was. She was the independent detachment of an AI God, intelligent beyond human concerns, profoundly knowledgeable in several domains beyond business, wise in the ways of human affairs and five millenia old.

Currently, these two 'captains of industry' were engaged in a social function commonly known as a date. What was different was that it was taking place in a North African music bar in the Vietnamese section of Jump City, staffed by a mix of Hispanic, Indian and Chinese attendants, and managed by a South African from Cape Town, while in its entirety was owned by an Egyptian Muslim woman with an Israeli husband of Jewish origins who was a Buddhist. All in all, it was a delightfully multicultural mix that reflected the diversity brought by immigration, legal and illegal.

Sophia was beautiful in a way that was classic, her features mixing the best of Spanish and Taino Indian blood with bronze caramel skin. Her eyes were exotically almond-shaped and a dark hazel, burning with an intense sultriness in intimate moments, but otherwise hardened when it came to business. She was petite, topping out at just over 5'5, though curves betrayed the shapely body beneath. A deadly combination of both beauty and intelligence; a lesson many of her enemies had failed to learn.

Fashionable jeans hugged the curves of her hips. A snug fitting white camisole was visible beneath a purple halterneck top, and over the entire ensemble was a black leather jacket. Atypical attire for a career woman, but she was there to relax. She'd always had an affinity for North African and Middle Eastern music.

The way Bruce was dressed made him fit in with the crowd; a tasteful dark blue business shirt under a black leather jacket, with black long pants and midnight blue loafers. Just as he intended, he did not stand out in the crowd. If the media ever heard that the scion of one of the most powerful business families in North America was engaging in a social relationship with the President, CEO and majority shareholder of one of the most powerful business conglomerates globally, the stock of both their companies could be affected.

"So, Bruce, you see, pop music is a tool of evil. There, I just proved my theory, and the prime reason for not letting my ward listen to that filth. Of course, my bodyguards just dote on her and let her watch MTV in their quarters." she finished, before drawing in another breath of the flavoured water vapour from her shisha pipe.

Bruce's eyes twinkled in amusement. It was nice to sometimes simply relax with a woman of no small beauty who had a cunning and wit about her that was uncommon. First they had discussed politics, before diverting to the topic of child-rearing, given that they were both guardians of children. Finally, it had taken a turn somewhere southwest and ended up a debate on the merits of pop music.

Of course, that and the priceless video of one of her bodyguards, an extremely mean-looking bastard who looked tougher than Bane, with several Maori facial tattoos, having his toe nails painted pink by Sophia's ward, Anya.

In many ways, she was like him. She had a ward as her closest family; she had no close siblings to speak of, at least none that he knew about. She had a busy schedule, and possessed no small measure of ruthlessness when it came to business, but through her actions, she shown a compassion for the poor and her own employees. She was refreshingly down to earth, unlike so many corporate types. She didn't take herself seriously, and didn't at all fit the image he had seen her project at business seminars or discourses of global economics.

Tonight's company was immensely enjoyable, but somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _strange_ about her, nagging at the edge of awareness.

**WWW**

Tara Markov rose screaming from her sleep, hugging the sheets of her bed. She lived alone, in an apartment not far from her school. The building she lived in had once been owned by a certain Slade Wilson, a mercenary known more famously as Deathstroke. She owned it now, through a trust in her name that financed her education. She had access to enough money to never need to work again, but still, she still wanted to have something to do, and going to school was one of the few things she could.

_He's not here. He's not here. He can't be here. I don't want him to be here. No._

She slowed her breathing, trying to calm herself down and control her heartbeat. She'd dreamed of _him_ again. He should hate her, yet, that day, he'd come back to her, had sought her out. She didn't deserve him. She didn't deserve anyone.

Not after what she'd done with Deathstroke. Ever since then, she'd felt….desecrated. As if she'd betrayed Beast Boy at a level that went deeper than the betrayal against the Titans. When she'd been Terra, Teen Titan, before she'd become Terra, Apprentice of Deathstroke.

_You are Slade's whore. You let him use you. You even enjoyed it. You're __pathetic_

_**It was the drugs, the suit... I… I wasn't thinking straight. It was a rape.**_

_You let him have your body. You're a filthy traitor. Beast Boy loved you! He cared for you unconditionally. What did you do to him? You threw him into a crevice and closed it up. That's the truth. You don't deserve anyone's love._

_**I do... I'm human. I made mistakes, I'm just a girl. I'll forgive myself, I'll fight this. I'll live, and prove you wrong. I'm the strongest one there is.**_

_You don't understand, do you? You pathetic little girl… you're the __only__ one. You're all alone, and you'll never know what it is to be with someone else again. __And you know it._

In the silence that followed, she sobbed once before clutching the pillow to her chest. She would survive. She always did.

**WWW**

In a remote corner of the city, a being from beyond the universe entered it. He was unlike any being in the Omniverse; "_the set of all universes in existence"_, a number with no limit, beyond infinity and mathematics, exponentially expanding, simply all possible attributes and modes are in play.

This could be visualized by perceiving the entire concept using a tree structure: the omniverse as the trunk, the multiverse as branch, and the universe as a secondary branch. Alternatively, the omniverse could be thought of as the forest, a multiverse as a tree in said forest and a universe a branch on that tree, and all further branches, leaves and capillaries or cells were further subset horizons within that universe.

Obviously it went without saying that this model itself was limited by a horizon. Thus, this sort of explanation was at best incomplete and did not fully explain the full extent of the number, which was beyond any cosmic capacity to understand. Thus it was with the Omniversal Elder Gods and the Ulthaj.

The being took on a human form, letting clothes coalesce around it as it manipulated the matter and energy around it. Its physical form reflected its heritage, paradoxical and hypocritical. Born from physical substrate, it took a human form. Genetics began unraveling within it, and then a perfectly formed human being stood there.

Grey eyes, so much like his father's, yet tinged with a certain violet from his mother, stared out at the scene of night, and the Titans Tower in the distance.

_I come to deliver a message, father._

"_When the Wolf King carries Rukt,  
thus are the final days of this age sewn."  
"When the Raven Queen ascends her throne,  
the fate of the King of Nights will be known."_

**Author's Note's**: No Akemi, Tara wasn't raped. It's just to show you exactly what sort of acts that Aziz has done, and is still capable of doing, as well as add to his mystery. He's a monster, a demon, a saint, an angel, and most importantly; _he's Aziz_. He _is_ what he _is_.

The mysterious stranger will eventually be revealed, but this I can tell you. He's deadly, even more so than his father, and much more powerful, but he does love and respect his father, and no, he isn't human. He's beyond anything conceivably human or mortal. He's beyond even the gods. Can you guess who the father is?

As to all the readers to keep up with this, I thank you greatly. Please review and tell me what is wrong, how it can be improved. Feedback to me and tell me both good and bad. I welcome criticism.

I'll also be posting probably 2 to 4 chapters within the next year, with December picking up again. This year is a crucial academic year for me, and I need to decrease my story writing tempo, so we'll probably be looking at 2 chapters tops this year. Please bear with it. I have a responsibility to finish this story, but I have a greater responsibility to my academics at the current time.

I'm also starting on an "Avatar: The Last Airbender" fanfic of somewhat smaller scope and simplicity than this one. So, I could do with beta readers for that. Again, also Mature, with graphic and mature themes. I'm not compromising my work; from the outset I WILL warn people, and it is their personal responsibility to discipline themselves.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Joke of Despair Part 5**

Corporal Fist Class Siva and Lance Corporal Ah Seng realised that they were truly, utterly and completely fucked as they sat in their shell scrape, scanning the dense secondary vegetation around them for any sign of movement. Their SAR-21's pointed outwards of their position, and they scanned the dense bush through their ballistic goggles, Siva briefly taking a sip from his tube, drawing water from his 3-litre hydration pack. Their knee and elbow guards scraped across the soil, causing a dribble of it to pour into their shell scrape.

The Doom Kestrels Siwang Force Singapore Brigade, essentially the counterpart of the Israeli Machal, French Foreign Legion and Spanish Foreign Legion, was playing as the opposing force with 1ADF against 1st Guards, 2nd Guards and 4 SIR.

The exercise called for them, the Doom Kestrels, to be a guerrilla force, the scenario calling them to act as insurgents. Despite being outnumbered and outgunned, they were doing surprisingly well, given their _unorthodox_ tactics, which, for the Doom Kestrels, were surprisingly orthodox.

Nominally mercenaries employing their own advanced technology, most of their officers were from the Singapore Armed Forces, as they were considered a part of the Guards Formation, the difference being that the Doom Kestrels were foreign mercenaries under contract, much like the British Army Gurkhas and French Foreign Legion. However, they were also trained by Mendes Defence Decisions, which also supplied a single company of Black Dragon Marines, also hired under contract, to Singapore MINDEF (Ministry of Defence).

Currently, the two attached Signallers from the ADF slowly scanned the jungle. Silently, they remembered the words of their platoon sergeant in 3 SIR, 1st Sergeant Zaki, when they'd decided to enlist, eventually transferring to the ADF.

"_When you feel as though every last joule of energy in your body has been used up, and it looks like the odds are insurmountable, remember these words. You are fighting for more than your personal survival. You are fighting for your country, and for your own kin. I appreciate what you're going through as the soldiers on the front line, and I respect your decision to endure the hardship that wartime may bring. Soldiers… I salute you."_

Of course, words are words, and they were at their limit. They hadn't slept for three days, they'd been hounded all the way, they'd waded through swamp and grass, had nearly been stung by scorpions, had too many sand fly bites on their arses to count, and were on the verge of suffering heat exhaustion _at night_.

Suddenly, out of the bushes, they heard the sound of talking before the Doom Kestrel platoon they were attached to opened up with their simulated munitions, or 'Simunitions', rising from their trenches to open fire. Simunitions were training rounds fired off with reduced velocity using a special pressurised gas system; they made for realistic (and incredibly painful) training. The projectile was filled with a detergent-based, water-soluble coloured marking compound. Breaking upon impact, it marked the target and allowed trainers to assess the accuracy and lethality of the hits. This was also the first large scale exercise using this technologies, though the Doom Kestrels commonly used Airsoft technologies to supplement their combat training on base.

The distinct bark of their HK 416s, Galil ARs, G36Cs loaded with Beta-D drum magazines with a capacity of 100 rounds, and Ultimax 100 LMG's contrasted with the returning fire.

The Doom Kestrels were highly trained and extremely professional, with an inculcated fighting spirit and discipline that placed them well above the United States Marine Corps, and on par man to man with the ROKMC. Some were equipped with a semi-rigid shell armour system that provided protection against even the most destructive small-arms fire.

However, that was _not _the main feature of the system, though it was one appreciated by troops currently operating in Iraq; those who had access to it. It was its camouflage ability that made it so special and such a highly sought-after item by military associations worldwide. The dermal layer of the semi-rigid shell contained a film that accurately mimicked how an octopus camouflaged itself, changing apparent colour, opacity and reflectivity as well as texture, making it an extremely efficient form of camouflage. Current prototypes of other countries were at least two generations away from mass production, and even they were highly inferior to this current system.

As the battle continued, more platoons arrived to flank the Doom Kestrel position, flushing them out with non-lethal concussion grenades, thunder-flashes and CS gas, commonly called tear gas.

By then, Siva was 'dead', while the Doom Kestrel section was responsible for annihilating _at least _two platoons. By the end of the day, the 'dead' soldiers would be drinking beer with the 'insurgents', while the exercise ended inconclusively, with two results known for sure; the Doom Kestrels were wily bastards, easily on par with the Viet Cong in terms of sheer cunning, and the SAF definitely required to inculcate initiative into its tactical-level commanders.

**WWW**

Aziz deftly parried a blow from the robot, before slamming his head full force into it. He had deactivated the safety protocols as well as enhancing their AI with adaptive algorithms, allowing them to process at faster speeds and synthesise from their catalogue of moves.

Ever since the first incident when he'd saved Raven, they'd salvaged the robot commandos and some of the strange androids, analysing them for weaknesses and strength. The 'bad-ass bots', as Beast Boy had referred to them, had a simple modular design, were easily maintained and incredibly resilient, with multiple redundancies, as well as an impressive anti-matter power plant, while Slade's robot commandos were as per normal.

Robin had wanted to trash them, but Aziz had insisted on keeping them for training purposes, and had requisitioned them for his own usage. They could be useful as a protective measure, and they were easy enough to maintain.

Working together, they had synergised their expertise to create a truly phenomenal killing machine. Aziz had not been surprised at Robin's skill in programming. He had been trained to an exceptional level in computer hacking and programming by Bruce, and was the resident programmer, if Cyborg wasn't around. Aziz had surprised him with his own engineering and programming prowess; one didn't live for more than one millennium without learning a few things- _and more_.

They'd found the fighting styles of more than thirty of the world's top martial artists stored inside the robots, along with an exceptional arsenal consisting of a boron fusion gun, a sonic cannon copied from Cyborg's own design, and an array of bladed weapons. The engineering was excellent; well above that found in Slade's designs. Whatever the mysterious organisation was, they produced quality products.

He pirouetted, letting a monomolecular blade slice the air an inch in front of his face. He grabbed the extended arm and, using his body weight and the momentum of his opponent, used it to drive into another robot. As it sliced inside, he kicked another in the head, before ducking and sweeping out the legs of another. It continued in a flow, like water cascading down a cliff.

He moved in a stream of time, like a diamond shark through water, deftly jumping and twisting in the air before using a palm heel strike to knock back another. As he landed, he shifted, changing his fighting style entirely. His fighting style shifted constantly, covering a whole spectrum, from brutal to gentle, raw to refined. After all, adapting is what humans do best.

All the robots were currently at the peak setting, and continuing to adapt, all the while reacting and moving at superhuman speeds. When the others were present, he set them to slightly faster than peak human reaction times and reflexes. Without witnesses, he let them operate at their peak. There were currently twenty.

He bent his knees slightly before catching the fist of one in the palm of his hand and twisting. If it were a human, the wrist would have broken. Moving into his guard, he pummelled it in a matter of seconds, launching a barrage of kicks, finishing it with several rapid fire knee blows to the thigh and midsection. A hooking kick impacted it with a force capable of breaking a human neck, while a scorpion kick looped behind his back sent it sprawling.

Elbowing another, he continued the series of drills, executing them with maximum speed. After five minutes, and sweating slightly, he decided to take them out of action, and switched their mode to 'challenge'.

In tag mode, they only deactivated if one was able to place a pinpoint strike on a zone one millimetre by one millimetre at the back of their neck. It required exacting precision and speed, as well as the precise application of force, to do so, and an inhuman level of skill. Not that this was any problem for Aziz.

Unsheathing his combat knife, he launched into it, moving once. One lunge, faster than a cobra, and a robot fell. In the span of an eye blink, he'd disabled seven. Another fell, as he launched into a Mountain Storm Roundhouse kick, a move drawn from the Filipino martial art of Sayaw ng Kematayan, or Yaw-Yan. It was similar to a Thai roundhouse kick except that the kicking leg was drawn up and swung-through in full force, swiftly and with a continuous downward cutting motion of the shin as the hip's torque, compared to the normal break-through of most roundhouse kicks.

He threw the knife as a robot tried to manoeuvre around him, before shifting from the fluid, adaptive styles he was using to a grounded, confrontational, linear style with deceptive rhythm. Without a pause, he flowed into an irregular style without rhyme or rhythm, chaotic and unpredictable. It resembled a hybrid of capoeira and breakdancing, unpredictable and arrhythmic. For the last one he switched to a raw, brawling style, ramming a flying elbow strike into the point and denting the metal.

With all of them deactivated, he stood in the silence of the training room. The others were still asleep at 4:40 in the morning. He had a slight sheen of sweat, but was otherwise untouched in any way. None of the robots had landed a hit. He shook his head slightly. An ember of desire burned within him; a need to seek a true fight, instead of having to hold back all the time.

His hearing picked up the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. He marked them as belonging to Batman. Each of the Titans had a certain footstep. Robin's was vigorous and energetic, filled with life and agility. Beast Boy's changed with his moods, but was usually reassuring and 'comical', while Cyborg's footsteps were mechanical and precise, a 'jud' and 'clunk' belying an agility uncommon in persons of such size. Starfire was always very deliberate in the way she walked, obviously having been taught how to do so properly as the princess of Tamaran, and Raven's footsteps were very often difficult to hear, since she liked to keep any sign of her arrival strictly to herself until she chose to reveal it. Batman had a powerful step, utterly silent and slightly animalistic.

He let his chi flow back into his system, reordering and harmonising his physical body and subtle energies. With the use of his chi, he could move at a maximum speed of 106 m/s (one third of the speed of sound), and his durability was enhanced to the point that Kassim had stated hitting him was like hitting diamond wrapped in silk, and his strength was limited to, at most, five tons, the strength being a detail he had not revealed to the Titans.

Suddenly an ominous pulse of power radiated from outside the tower. A subtle psionic pulse, it tingled as he felt it at the back of his mind. Then, the ordeal began.

**WWW**

As Batman approached the training room, restless from a patrol that had brought fresh clues as to where the Joker could possibly be hiding, he heard a scream of intense agony come from behind the doors. He rushed to it, and bore witness to the strange youth, whose name he knew as Aziz Yap Gang Hu, or his hero alias the Black Tiger, on his knees.

Two shafts of dazzling white line burst from his eyes. Aziz grabbed at his head in a manner that looked as though he was trying to claw it open to take out whatever was causing the pain; whatever it was that made him cry out in the purest pain and clearest fury. That, however, was not what was so unnerving.

Bruce, despite his reputation, did feel fear. He just suppressed it very well, and dealt with it afterwards. He was just very good at suppressing those emotions he wished to, and fear was one of them. _As was love, when he'd been with Talia… Selina... Diana._

He stood rooted to the ground, unable to move, as a feeling of awe arose in him for no reason he could discern. Runes and symbols danced and burned like snakes of fire on the youth's skin.

They snaked and coiled, constantly shifting, like a cobra. They twisted around him, constricted, before exploding and imploding in the same instant. Bruce saw his own life in them; his parents, his loves, the evils he'd encountered. In that one moment, as he bore witness to the pain Aziz suffered. His unwanted burdens, his inner darkness, his deepest desires; he saw them reflected back at him in the tattoos in his face.

Then, it slowly resolved into a symbol unlike anything he'd seen before; a collection of symbols. Terrible in its majesty, he made out an anagram with a single word, seemingly in French and English yet at the same time in Arabic script, then Cyrillic, constantly morphing as it burned on him. It spelt out a single word.

'_**Janthril'**_

**WWW**

Starfire stirred, trailing her hand briefly over Robin's face. She found him inordinately beautiful, the faint moonlight making his face seem almost ethereal. She let her fingers follow his jaw line, before coming to rest on his lips. Unconsciously, she licked her own lips, intent on reliving the memory of the 'making out'. She did not understand the human term applied to it. It was an intimate physical action that did not involve manufacture of some product.

Native Tamaranean was more direct, and categorised such actions into _yan'trai_. An intimacy between two individuals, whether male of female, her native language had a full array of terms to describe it. She had once tried to explain the terms to Robin, who could speak basic conversational Tamaranean, but he'd ended up blushing, especially when she had tried to use visual aids and graphics obtained from the Internet.

Strangely, humans seemingly had instructional graphics and videos to aid in reproductive methods online. When she had shown it to Cyborg, in a bid to understand Robin's reaction, he had taken her aside and explained as clinically as possible that what she had shown Robin was explicit hardcore pornography. After an extremely uncomfortable conversation, on Cyborg's part more than anything, he had called in Raven to explain _what_ pornography was to her. Raven, while maintaining her expressionless face, had a pink flush throughout the entire explanation.

While they had not engaged in any manner of activities depicted in 'da porno', as Beast Boy had said after she had given him all her material, they had engaged in others. Starfire was interested in exploring options of physical pleasure between herself and Dick, but at times, he seemed…uncomfortable.

Just then, the moment was broken by a scream that ripped through the tower. It sounded like Az. With no small alarm, she flew off, dragging Robin with her, as he groggily tried to wake up in midair.

**WWW**

Garfield held onto the heart-shaped box. It was the one he'd given to Terra. His keen senses still picked up traces of her scent.

Somehow, since the Tiger had entered the team, he'd felt more at ease and less alone. No matter how many pranks he pulled on Az, he was unshakable, and _never_ got annoyed. Even Starfire had her moments, especially when he'd hit her with a grease ball.

Az could take a full stankball hit in the face without flinching, give a slight smile and proceed to retaliate with as much gusto as Garfield had dished out.

But Gar could see that Az made an effort. He made an effort to laugh and smile. Yet, he was never truly happy. He knew, because when a person smiled, their muscles contracted at the side of their eyes. Az's eyes _rarely _smiled.

During a rare moment of self-pity, he'd been sitting watching the sunset by the pool, and remembering her. Az had come by with a bottle of vodka and proceeded to make him down several screwdrivers, despite both of them being underage. He'd never asked where Az had gotten the bottle, or why he'd come up. Az had later told him that no one should have to be alone, and that was why he'd joined him, instead of staying downstairs with the rest.

After both of them had gotten inebriated, or as least as far a Gar could remember, they'd sat there singing stupid pop songs, and Cyborg had joined them as the sun sank further, the cool sea breeze ruffling their hair. Garfield couldn't tell if Az had been drunk or not, because he acted the same as when he was sober.

In their highly inebriated state, they'd discussed philosophy and Gar had said something about Az and Cy looking like sad teddy bears, adorable but in need of Prozac. Az had said nothing, but merely contemplated it, while Cy had proceeded to gather both of them into a bear hug and read poetry about a girl he'd dated when in high school, and Sarasim.

Az had remained silent after the poem, before telling them a story about a woman he'd met called Amara. In their state, they'd cheered when he had mentioned her age being 29. They weren't surprised that he could score with an older woman, given his looks. However, when asked about what happened to her, he'd been hesitant, mentioning that she'd died of cancer some time ago. Gar had felt a deep sadness for him then, and had tried to kiss him, but missed and kissed the concrete.

Then, the entire conversation had switched to women, the discussion focusing mainly on their looks. Both Cy and Gar had confessed to having initial crushes on _both_ Raven and Starfire, while Az had simply stated something about oceans, fish, a buffet and the way women drove social evolution. They'd finished off with a moment where, before Garfield had gone off to sleep, Az had told him to hold on to his innocence and desire to make people laugh, because he felt that he was the soul of the team, the glue that bound it together and made it a family. Gar had shrugged it off as Az not being in his right mind.

The scream that broke the silence tore him from his head and he rushed out, pulling on his pants in a headlong rush through the door.

**WWW**

Cyborg was enjoying a relaxing night, as he lay on his rack and Mongolian throat-singing music played out over the stereo of his room. It was a secret pleasure he enjoyed, and one he guarded jealously. Many people had hobbies that they didn't want others to know about, for fear of being thought of as peculiar. Cyborg was no different.

Overtone singing or harmonic singing was a type of singing in which the singer manipulated the harmonic resonance created as air travels from the lungs, past the vocal chords, and out the lips to produce a melody. Simply, it was a person producing two tones with their throat at the same time.

The cybernetic part of his mind found it oddly relaxing, given the overlays in mathematical rhythm, and harmony as it reached a crescendo then pattered out. The human part of it just enjoyed it for the sheer artistry he found in it.

Then, the scream cut through the speaker. His mind recorded the scream, ran it through a database, and found it matched his team mate. Without a thought, he got off the rack and ran to the source of the screaming, the gym.

**WWW**

Raven teleported straight to the gym. The sound of the screaming began to spiral off into silence as she exited out of the darkness, her portal opening into the gym.

The scene that met her eyes shocked her, as she registered all the Titans standing in a circle at the door, simply staring at Aziz as he writhed on the floor, coils of white light burning and flaring on his body.

She slowly dropped to the floor, unable to react as it assailed her. The same terrible majesty that held the others in thrall held her in check as well.

Slowly, the spell it held on them lifted as they disappeared from his body. Coils of smoke rose from Aziz as Raven and the others rushed towards him. She was the first to reach him. Raven reached out to Aziz, tried to see what was wrong with him. She opened herself to him, and briefly touched him. The agony she received was unlike any pain she had encountered.

_Spiritual pain, reaching its roots far deeper than anything she'd ever experienced. Emotional pain; so many tender secrets._

Abruptly she was shut out as he rose from the ground, his casually indifferent face a rictus mask that made her step back in hesitation. Blood poured from his eyes, nose and ears, seeming to flare with specks of gold before reverting to normal.

Robin was the first to ask.

"What…What happened to you Az?"

A thick silence lay on top of it, before he replied with a single word.

"Nothing," he answered simply.

"But…you were screaming!"

"**Do not ask**."

The last was said with thick warning and increased volume, the beginnings of anger coming out on top of it. Slowly, they backed off, as his body language became intimidating, radiating such extreme violence on a primal level that even Batman took a step back.

Without a word, he turned a left the room, leaving suspicion in his wake.

Robin turned a knowing look to Cyborg. They'd spoken about this before, and each knew the others doubts. Starfire gave them a nod as well, while Beast Boy glanced around, unsure of what to do.

**WWW**

Sorentho Janthril hovered as he inhaled the night air. His eyes scanned the tower from his point in the sky.

His very nature was a contradiction. The son of the most powerful Grand Matriarch in the history of the Janthrils, Chayara Janthril, and one of their most feared generals; he was their prime scion.

He was in essence the most powerful being in the Omniverse, with powers of omnipotence and omniscience far beyond that of even Halgur or Khallusk, and beyond even Karul or Mogathor of the Ulthaj, rivalling an Imperial Ulthaj like Shath'Hal himself. This was courtesy of the fact that his mother was a Janthril, while his father was also a Karas'thy Raksa, just a step before the ultimate evolution, the potential to be what Shath'Hal was.

'_Well, father, it looks like you hang on to your mortality as always. The only "mortal" I ever respected. Yes… the mark of your divinity scars my DNA. But you will have to forgive me, for my methods seem harsh in contrast to my true intentions, and you will come to know that, father.'_

The pulse of power he'd sent out had resonated with his fathers, overwhelming whatever blocks his father had put in place. Soon, he would have to physically confront his primogenitor. It was not a task he relished, but he had to expose his mystery, and push him beyond what he was now.

**WWW**

"Dick, your new team mate is…suspicious."

Batman and Robin had retreated to the conference room, shutting out the Titans. The constant personal consultations; the distrust Batman obliquely displayed to the rest of the Titans was stressing the relationship. As it was, Batman was overstaying his welcome, as far as Robin was concerned.

The sooner they found the Joker and Joculare, the better.

"I'll handle it Bruce. My team means my way. Besides, you're not the one funding us, so I don't have to answer to you. In fact, **none** of us need to do so. We're deferring to you, simply because of who you are. Savvy?"

Bruce stared down at Dick. Towering over his ward at 6'3, he was a tall man, and combined with his muscle mass, gave him a powerful, intimidating frame. Dick had recently gained several inches, making him the same height as Starfire at 5'8, and stood straight, returning the glare with one of his own

"I understand that, and I understand your anger, and why you left Gotham. I did what I felt was in your best interests."

"**NO**!" Dick suddenly burst out. Anger flared along the edge of his voice. "You did what was in Batman's best interests, in Robin's best interests; _not_ what was in Dick Grayson's best interests. Bruce, you interfered in my life; in _my_ relationship with Barbara. I left because you controlled too much; because I couldn't be human around you. It was _always_ about the mission."

"The mission is all there is. We owe it to Gotham. We owe…"

Robin cut him off with a vehement chopping motion.

"No Bruce. Not that old spiel. You know what? You're going to die a lonely old man, because you drive everyone that cares for you. Everyone that gives a damn, you drive them away. You remember Selina? Or maybe… _Talia_?"

At the mention of Talia's name, Bruce visibly stiffened. Slowly, the cowl came back on, and he was Batman once more.

"We'll discuss this later. Right now, I've got some leads on the assassin, Jaras, and some clues about the Joker's location. I'll brief them tonight before we head off. We'll be busy tonight. And that team mate of yours; he has Israeli, Singaporean and Swiss passports. All of them are sealed, and all of them have no family connections whatsoever. As for his real name, I don't know what it is, but Anand Prameswaran, Asher Baharav and Majad Halabi are the names his passports holds, not what he's told you."

Turning, Batman left, leaving Robin to ponder the new information. However much he might want to deny it, Robin owed a lot to Batman, on the professional side if not the human one, and his data analysis techniques were just one of them. If there was anything to be found out, he'd find it.

**WWW**

As Batman stepped outside, he ran into Aziz. They stood, meeting each other eye to eye, before Aziz spoke in his usual indifferent voice.

"What did you see?"

"I saw you on the floor, writhing in pain."

"I know you've been investigating me Batman, and while I would rather not do anything to stop you, I wish you luck. However, I would request that you stop."

"Really?" asked Batman neutrally, acting as though Aziz hadn't just revealed something. "Why should I? Is there something you'd rather hide?"

The Black Tiger answered that with a question that changed the subject and pointedly emphasised on the last two words. Aziz wanted to make a point.

"Would you like to spar with me…_Bruce Wayne?_"

The look that Batman fixed on the Black Tiger was inscrutable. His response was a simple nod, as both turned to go to the training room, where one of Aziz's many secrets had been exposed to the entire team.

However, this secret was slightly different, in two important respects. One: it was likely that they would not be able to understand it. Two: if they ever did, then they would realise just how crucial it was.

**WWW**

Without a word, Aziz took an Escrima stick, twirling it in his hands, before tossing it to Batman. Batman caught it, before exchanging it for a staff from a rack on the wall.

Slowly, a camera on the wall, used by Robin to record his movements and analyse where he could improve, reactivated. He was thorough when it came to training himself. It followed a timed sequence, activating at 8 am, as this was the usual time that Robin usually trained.

Each gauged the other, analysing stance and positioning; the subtle shifts in body language. Batman was in his usual uniform, a derivative Nomex Survival Suit that had been designed for infantry personnel, but was deemed too expensive by the military. His elbows, wrists, knees and shin were reinforced, with the suit capable of surviving anything short of a point blank shot gun blast.

Aziz's suit had subtly shifted, its design tending towards freedom of movement. The bracers and greaves were cool against his shins and forearms. It was redesigned with layers of thermokinetic and ballistic gel padding the vital areas, and ceramic panels able to stop 9 mm bullets. He shifted his body; attuned himself to react at a merely human level. He would enjoy this fight and see for himself exactly how good the man was.

Batman made the first move. A master martial artist, physically conditioned to the peak of human ability, with impressive Olympic-level agility and strength and catlike reflexes, he launched into a charge. His fighting style was adaptable, brutal and mercilessly efficient, designed for taking out multiple opponents with either powerful direct attacks or combinations of strikes to pressure points. Trained in multiple martial arts, he was constantly expanding his repertoire of skills. Recently, he'd expanded to include Krav Maga and Wing Chun, along with the street-fighting oriented styles of the Keysi Fighting Method, Sari-An and Bakbakan.

However, that was not the only part. His calculating genius intellect synergised with his kinesthetic motions, allowing him not only to outfight his opponents, but outthink them, using the environment and their own abilities against them. Coupled with an innate tenacity and determination, along with an indomitable will, he was more than a match for any superpowered opponent.

However, a large part of his persona was the way in which he fought; aggressive and animalistic. Over time, it had evolved to blend that aggressive animal element with a high resilience to pain and tight, controlled, efficient movements. His primary style was based largely on Krav Maga and the Keysi Fighting Method, blending the adaptability and dirty-fighting techniques of Krav Maga with the intuitive, low-grounded method of Keysi that gave itself extremely well to close quarters combat.

His techniques were not flashy, but refined, instinctive and very, very brutal. His goal was simple; to break the enemy, whether psychologically or physically, and win. He took the techniques he knew and made them fit the situation.

The Black Tiger evaded the first few blows, reading his body language, seeing the feint within the feints. A quick parry- he lunged in with a punch, before sidestepping to deliver a knee to Batman's stomach, letting momentum do the job. A fake telegraphed move.

A ridge hand came at him, aimed for his neck. He brought his escrima stick down on the arm, grabbing it and pulling Batman close to him. Exactly what Batman had intended, as had Aziz. In a split second, Batman opened up with a powerful hammerfist to the collar bone, then an elbow strike to the meat of the shoulder. He never got the chance.

Batman grunted as a powerful palm heel strike to his solar plexus knocked him back, winding him and sending him sprawling on the floor. As he tried to back flip, Aziz mounted him as they wrestled and grappled on the mat floor, a form of physical chess.

Using technique and strength, Batman countered, launching a hooking left at the Black Tiger's helmet. With a momentary distraction, he twisted and was once more on top, the Black Tiger beneath him. Sitting on his back and getting his arm twisted into an arm bar, he placed his body weight on the Black Tiger's centre of gravity. With a shock, he was lifted off the ground as the Tiger launched himself on one arm, before twisting in midair and falling, letting Batman absorb the shock of the fall.

Move and counter move followed block and parry as it continued non-stop for twenty minutes, Batman refusing to give up as the ranges changed; one minute grappling, exchanging blows with sticks, another kicking and striking.

**WWW**

Beast Boy and Raven watched from the sidelines as the two fought, the legendary Dark Knight of Gotham against the mysterious Black Tiger of the Titans. Starfire hovered nearby, while Robin observed the movements of his mentor and subordinate as they struggled against the other. He found this incredibly…_entertaining_. Given his current foul mood at Bruce, he relished seeing Bruce absorbing a beating. He still remembered the uttered words about Starfire, said in their previous conversation.

Robin had decided that perhaps what made the Black Tiger such a dangerous foe was his enigmatic and conservative expenditure of his abilities. He was ambidextrous and could change his fighting style at a whim - keeping his opponents unsure as to his next move. A 'master of every weapon and style', he drew his opponents in, fighting less than them, and then struck the final blow when his opponent thought they had the better of him. It was an old trick known as the 'rope-a-dope', but there's a reason why tricks become old.

He could shift in the span of a second to a brute, using only raw strength to pummel, become a gentle, harmonious force that turned one's own power against them, or dominate a fight outright. Aziz could do anything in a fight, and do it well; he'd just test his opponent's repertoire of fighting skill move by move until he found a weak point, and then exploit it.

Currently, the Tiger was dominating the fight, operating at a level above Batman. In all respects, Robin gauged he was in the same tier of skill as Lady Shiva, whom Robin had seen in action. It had taken the combined efforts of Catwoman, Batman, Green Arrow, The Question, Speedy and Robin at one time to simply drive her off when she'd been hired to assassinate the corrupt Mayor of Bludhaven. Now, that had been a hell of a mission… when he'd been younger and more trusting of him.

As Aziz breathed out from his mouth, he looked at his opponent with newfound respect. His fighting ability was excellent, surpassing many whom he'd killed. Truly, his skill was near that of some of the masters he'd defeated, early in his pilgrimages. Still, it was not enough. He'd allowed himself to be hit enough times to allow his skill to be unquestioned, and not to raise suspicion.

He switched to a melange of rapid, irregular movements, lashing out a foot at the last moment to catch Batman in the floating ribs, before transferring his momentum into a pushing L-kick aimed at his coccyx that sent him crashing to the ground.

Batman groggily stood up, drenched in perspiration. They'd fought non-stop for half an hour, but he still had one trick up his sleeve. He intentionally staggered, as if he were going to fall to the ground. A sagging motion of his body seemed to indicate it. As the Black Tiger withdrew from him, Batman launched himself off the ground in a powerful leap and locked his legs around Aziz's neck, constricting them.

The sudden addition of weight brought the Black Tiger crashing to the floor, before he brought his legs up around Batman's neck and locked them solid, using his hips and lower body strength and weight to pull him off and slam him to the floor. As he impacted on the floor, two rapid elbow strikes to his abdomen knocked the wind from him before the Tiger disengaged, pulling back from the fight. Batman lay on the floor, ragged breaths sucking in precious air.

Aziz walked toward him and extended his arm, offering his hand. Without a word, Batman took it. An unspoken truce as well as a mutual respect had been established between the two masters.

**WWW**

Incognito screamed as the Bhagatur injected more silver nitrate into his system, burning him from within. The needles that pricked his skin were tipped with sulphuric acid, putting him in constant pain, while the runes carved into them inhibited his powers. Cyrus leaned back against the wall of the interrogation chamber. Those vampires that had survived the massacre were restrained, crucified against the wall. One Bhagatur had died in the fight, his head blown off by a point blank shotgun blast. Before dying, he'd slaughtered 8 of the vampires.

His comrades, being less than appreciative of his loss, had been assigned to interrogate Incognito for his purposes. The order was simple. Kill Incognito. First though, they would have to make an example. What the Ahriman Society could not assimilate through application of 'soft' power and negotiation, they ruled over with 'hard' power. Cyrus Creed was the first to speak, the conversation in the tongue of Ancient Sumerian.

"You thought you could defy the edicts of the Lord Imperial? You thought you could think me a fool and try to kill me? ME!" Cyrus exploded in a sudden burst of outrage. "I am an adept of the 3rd Inner Circle, a Peer of the Triumvir of Khagat. We gave you a chance and offered diplomacy. You mistook it for weakness. You killed our envoys, interfered with our businesses, attacked the covens that were affiliated to us and saw fit to feed on the families of my negotiators and top executives. What belongs to the Lord Imperial, the Lord Imperial protects. You will pay the price."

Incognito could only stare back, bestial features overlaying his normally human face. Fangs glinted in the faint light. The once proud coven master could only watch as the door opened and one of his trusted lieutenants entered, accompanied by Fedayeen enforcer-type androids. He spat blood, the gob of spit and blood landing on the transparent energy shield that blocked him off from the rest of the room.

Krakistos was the first to speak.

"Incognito, you did not see the wave of the future. The future of our kind lies with the Society. The future of immortal and mortals alike on this planet lie on the path the society presents to us. I have always argued for us to embrace it, yet you were too stubborn to change. You refuse to accept that the paradigms have changed. We can no longer be as we were. The rise of the metahumans and the advent of the information technologies means that we can no longer be as we once were. As master of the coven, I will lead our kind into an age where all can prosper. The old ways are dead- _your_ ways are dead. And so are you."

Incognito could only stare back at his most trusted lieutenant; the one he'd sired more than 4 millennia ago in ancient Greece. The one who was his friend and confidante, trusted above all else. The one who'd sacrificed his own coven to fight the threat of the new kindred of vampires and lycans spawned by the immortal Corvinus, and saved Incognito's life from the flames of the Nazis in World War II.

The shield shut down, and the Bhagatur withdrew, placing himself between Cyrus and the trapped vampire. Krakistos approached him, fangs bared.

"I will make it quick, old friend. I am sorry, but for the sake of the future, you have to die."

The geyser of blood that stained the Bhagatur as Krakistos ripped into his sire, drinking of the ancient vampire's blood, was black in colour, indicative of the extreme age and potency of Incognito.

In the corner of the room, Red X watched, as he stood next to Cyrus Creed. He felt disgusted, having to bear witness to this. Beside him, Joculare eagerly awaited, keen to be the one to test new concoctions of his on the captured vampires. It was always fun to try out his concoctions on vampires. They lasted so much longer than humans.

**WWW**

Deathstroke watched closely as the Joker strolled through the rubble of his once proud headquarters. Since he still owned the property (under an assumed alias of course) he'd been content to rent it out to the Joker… for a hefty fee of course.

He didn't expect it to survive the Joker's stay, which was why he'd taken out insurance on the warehouse it was situated under. He'd also left a few clues distributed throughout the city; chemical traces of Joker toxin leading towards the subterranean bunker, as well as rumours loose among the criminal underworld. He wanted the Joker out of Jump City as soon as possible, and that beast Joculare as well.

It was simply bad for business, and presented too much of a professional risk to him to have two madmen running amok in the city. He'd scaled back his operations in Jump City and concentrated on his core business of arms dealing, providing a constant supply of arms, both exotic and conventional, to the gangs that ruled the favelas of Sau Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. Investing in operations in Jump City were simply too expensive, given prevailing conditions.

He looked on as his new Fedayeen androids stood in the shadows, their eyes following the Joker and his henchmen.

"Well, are you satisfied?"

His gravelly voice echoed in the cavernous chamber. The Joker looked around and laughed, his hyena-like voice giving the laughter an insane edge.

"Well, well, well you old chap, I see the Bird Boy destroyed your precious nest. Tell me, how did he do it? Of course, I would destroy it too. The décor here is so…_tacky._"

Deathstroke felt a pang of annoyance, and acted on it. Before the Joker could say another word, he found himself slammed face first into a wall. Deathstroke had crossed the room in the blink of an eye, grabbed him by the neck and done the deed before anyone could react. His reflexes accounted for him being able to dodge so many of Cyborg and Starfire's energy blasts, though the fact that a normal, unaugmented human like Robin could keep up with him was due to his peak human agility.

"_I asked a question. I expect an answer. Are you satisfied?_"

The last was said with a cold, dangerous tone. It was a tone that predicted two possible futures; compliance, or a world of hurt.

With a gulp, the Joker nodded, unable to reply on account of his throat being caught in the grip of Deathstroke. Harley and the Jokerz raised their spray guns on Deathstroke, their fingers tense.

"Good. I'll take the cash and be on my way. Miss Quinn?"

"Go stroke yourself off you son of a bitch. Release my pudding."

"Stop mocking me and hand over the cash you have in your briefcase. Oh, and as for all the guns you have pointed at me…"

The last sentence was punctuated by a cracked neck from one of the Jokerz as he was lifted of the floor by one of the hyper-agile Fedayeen robots. Aggressor-class models, they'd been the ones that had attacked Raven in the harbour. Simultaneously, they extruded several blades from multiple points on their body, as well as raising their boron fusion guns to target the Jokerz. One appeared in front of Harley as it deactivated its active camouflage, once more becoming visible. It had been there all along.

Without a word, she threw the suitcase over. Deathstroke caught it, letting Joker fall limply to the ground.

"Never play around with me Joker. _Never_"

As the androids once more cloaked themselves, Deathstroke turned to leave, confident that the future held great promise indeed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 Intermission**

**A Remembrance**

** WWW  
**

**There is something intricately soothing about waves crashing on rocks. No; 'crashing' isn't the right word. Water doesn't crash; it doesn't explode into fiery pieces. It finds outlets and slowly drains away.**

**It is the constant repetition that makes waves so soothing. Humans fear nothing more than uncertainty; therefore certainty of what is to come next is calming on the human nerves. That's what mantras are all about.**

She sat, listening to the peaceful sound of water rushing back and forth. As the human mind's ability to filter out the mundane kicked in, reducing the water's play on the rocks to nothing more than background ambience that she had to concentrate on to hear, she thought.

She'd felt something, had _copied_ some fragments of memories, when the shields around his mind were down, and she knew something intimately about him. He was much more than he seemed, and much older. Yet, she knew he had never lied, and somehow, irrationally, she trusted him.

She knew this was an entirely absurd reaction. He had been hiding these memories, this information from her. He had deliberately set up walls around his mind to stop her from finding out… yet she still trusted him, reason notwithstanding.

The few fragments she had reminded her of her own memories, and of the memories of Robin she had in her own mind; even Starfire's, from when they had switched bodies. She knew Starfire hadn't had a normal childhood, much less Robin or Beast Boy. She was the same…

**Raven's Memories**

The wound was still fresh in her mind, and each time she thought about it brought yet another wave of tears; yet another chest-wracking sob that shook her entire frame with sorrow. Just because she did not bleed, it did not mean she was not hurt.

Raven remembered it all too clearly, even though she didn't want to. She wanted all the bad memories to go away, but, no matter how many she denied, there were always more, waiting for her in the dark corner where she let the tears flow freely.

It had happened all too often. Each time it had been different, but the same stabbing feeling of longing and rejection was always the same. She wanted to laugh and run and leap and play, just like the other children.

Every day she waited through all the boring meditation sessions with Azar, willing time to go faster so that she could go out to play with the other children. However, each time she found herself watching the children, she suddenly wished not to be there anymore.

Raven so badly wanted to be recognised, yet was afraid of what might happen if she was. A young child should not have to deal with such impossible contradictions.

So she always stood to the side, slightly out of sight; watching from the edge. Inside her the fear always screamed, but the longing to be accepted kept her still. She just waited; not actively seeking attention, but just happening to be there if it came calling.

And then, it happened. The incident she had been both desiring and fearing.

The ball rolled to her feet, failing to have been caught properly by one of the other children. She knelt down, taking the ball in trembling hands.

When she straightened up again one of the older children was standing before her, looking down upon her with an expression that betrayed a potent mixture of hate, contempt… and, had she but known it, concealed fear.

Raven smiled hopefully, proffering the ball to the older child.

The ball fell as she threw up her arms to protect herself, but the older child was stronger. Holding both her wrists in one hand, he gave her a resounding slap across the cheek that all the children heard before throwing her to the ground.

He continued the assault, pushing her back when she tried to get up and pinning her down, merely using his weight to inflict pain on her. She wanted to fight back, but she couldn't. She wanted somebody to help her, but they wouldn't. The pain wouldn't stop. Raven cried.

Through the tears that blurred her eyes and the pain that made her cry out she heard her assailant calling her 'devil child'. The other gathered around to witness this spectacle, and those two words continued, self-propagating through the crowd of children until it became a chant, deafening to her ears.

'_Devil Child! Devil Child!'_

She didn't think about how she might be able to get out, or even that she might die, or indeed anything other than she wanted it all to stop. The tears, the pain, the chanting; she just wanted it to stop. And it did.

Like the wrath of gods, Azar burst forth from the temple, eyes blazing white in furious outrage at the transgression committed upon her charge. The chanting instantly stopped as the crowd of children disappeared before Azar like mist before a tempest, leaving the perpetrator standing alone.

He would of course be punished, but Raven derived no satisfaction from this. All she knew was that she had once again been completely and utterly rejected by those she longed to be with; be a part of. Raven had run away into the maze of the city, seeking the one place where she knew she could seek refuge.

_Mother._

When she'd arrived at her mother's private quarters, she'd walked inside, before being scooped up into her slender arms. Her mother was a beautiful woman; lavender-kohl eyes that Raven had inherited, with the same dusky complexion and high cheekbones, sensual full lips complementing her features. She moved with a grace and dignity born of hardship.

Raven would always try to unburden all her grievances at once, and it resulted in a stream of words that all centred around one word; 'Why?'

"Mama, why do the others always call me _Devil Child_? Why can't I stay with you like all the other children? Why do I have to stay with Azar? She never lets me out to play with the others, and I always have to meditate…"

She stopped her questioning, as her mother began to hold her tighter and sob. She felt moisture where her mother's face was pressed to her shoulder, and she wondered why her mother was so upset. Raven was the child; she was the one who was sad. Parents don't cry or break down.

As she grew older, Raven realised that _her mother had been crying for her_.

She was ten years old when she realised this.

**Aziz's Memories**

Raven did of course feel somewhat guilty accessing Aziz's memories without his permission, but she couldn't stop herself. _She had to know._

For the most part she skipped over them, but one had looked particularly promising. She lived it in full.

It was a dark room in a small apartment in the city, by the river, Spartan in its furnishing. The inhabitants had obviously not thought to include more than what was needed, and the entire room gave the impression that resources were stretched to the point where they would snap if the tiniest force was applied.

The atmosphere was sombre. She saw a man in photos, carrying a rifle, smiling, roughhousing with his buddies. Raven knew without a doubt that it was him. She also saw a woman of mixed Latin American and Hawaiian blood she knew to be his lover, his girlfriend. She heard him call her…Sihaya. Raven knew her name was Grace. _His soulmate._

He was lying down, his head in the lap of a woman. He was crying. She was stroking his head, caressing hair that was cropped and short. He was much taller as an adult. She knew now he'd been an adult, yet he seemed like a teenager to her now. It was another mystery for her.

She heard the woman whisper softly to him. In that odd dream-like omniscience, Raven received the message without any intermediary stage like words. His brother had died.

His brother; his little brother whom he'd raised from young, acting as surrogate mother and father as well as big brother, had died. The brother whom he'd put through university in London by making a living as a pit fighter, all the while studying at night school for a degree and maintaining his work as a commando in the military, had passed away.

She saw visions of a young boy who rarely laughed; who slogged away countless hours fighting in the rings as a kickboxer and endurance athlete, forcing himself to be 'perfect'; as an athlete, as a straight "A" student, as a brother, as a provider to his family, to his peers, never allowing himself one moment of rest.

Using scholarship and trust fund money from deceased parents that was rightfully his, but most of it blocked from access by his father's and mother's family, he'd managed to get his two sisters and brother educated. He had been helped by his mother's brother, a sergeant-major in the police who'd raised them along with his own children as his own, despite opposition from both families.

He'd joined the military at a young age mostly because of the need to provide for his family, and the fact that he desired to serve something greater than himself. He was self-aware enough to know that it wasn't the propaganda, but he was interested in the options it offered.

The hardships of his exceptionally difficult life didn't make him bitter. That was only because he didn't know how to feel either way. He smiled, yes, but what is a mere movement of the muscles? You don't need papier-mâché to make a mask.

He hadn't cried at the funeral. He'd just been silent, going about it efficiently. The pillar of strength, no weakness at all as far as the world could see.

After that, he'd gone to her apartment. Then, and only then, he let himself be vulnerable. Only around her was he truly happy, his authentic self breaking out. He was a passionate person, and the mask of dispassionate calm and indifference, all emotional control that all of the rest saw; those under his command, his sisters, his family, his relatives, his friends; it all fell away, revealing a person who loved intensely, and hated just as fiercely.

And he was crying for his dead brother, with her as the only witness to the suffering; to his loss of control. She knew that this was when he was twenty five.

**Robin's Memories**

He screamed. Whether it was the denial, the anger, the fear, the sorrow or all of them combined, he didn't know, but that was how it all came out. What was happening defied comprehension.

Raven saw as his parents fell; saw as their bodies hit the ground with a crunch. Saw the bones as they broke and snapped, sprawling the limbs out at awkward angles, unnatural for the human body.

Writers often liken people to rag-dolls when they are thrown around like this, but that is only to dehumanise them; to make it easier on the mind's eye of the reader. In reality, seeing someone fall to their death is a terrible thing.

The scream stopped. He'd now had enough time to make sense of what had happened, and it had put a stopper in his throat. Even then, the scene before him was surreal.

A man Raven knew to be the ringmaster held and supported Robin, gently turning him away from the macabre scene. Raven felt the tears building up as Robin tried to suppress them. For all intents and purposes, she was sharing his mind for this memory, with all the emotional implications of that.

Then it switched to a funeral. Two black wooden coffins stood as a gaunt denial of any kind of joy on this day. The monotone of grey up above sent down a constant and unfeeling barrage of cold water. It didn't even deserve to be called rain.

Normal Gotham weather, as far as it went. A tall man in a trench coat held an umbrella over him, before handing it to another man.

"Here Alfred, hold it."

Bruce bent down and took the young boy into a hug that expressed his empathy. The shared empathy of two orphans; one who'd been driven to the edge of insanity and darkness to become a Dark Knight, the other who would become one with Wings of Night. Young Dick hadn't made a sound in over a week. The first sound to escape was a sob, before he buried his face in the coat of the man who was to become his surrogate father.

"_I don't know what to do. I'm all alone."_

"You're not alone Dick. You're not, no matter what you think. You'll never be alone. I promise."

The hands of both the father figures in his life on either shoulder, Bruce on the left and Alfred on the right, they guided him to the car. As he entered the car, he had no idea he was embarking on an adventure that would change his life, and those of others, by that one simple step.

**Starfire's Memories**

When she had switched bodies with Starfire, she had gained access to some of Starfire's memories, and ever since, one in particular had puzzled Raven. It was not something that you would normally associate with the bright and cheerful Tamaranian girl.

Starfire was in a dark, cold and unpleasantly wet cave. However, it was not because of this that she was crying.

She heard sounds; the scampering of clawed creatures and the rasp of scale on rock. She hugged herself tighter, trying to disappear as she hid in the darkness of the cave. The darkness wouldn't save her, and she knew it. The monsters could see without light. _This was their domain._

Starfire, for what felt like the millionth time, asked herself why she had ever come in here. The same answer came back. She'd gone into the cave to prove to the other children that she was brave… just like her big sister.

The inevitable happened, and it scared Starfire infinitely more than she had anticipated. A reptile of some hideous form moved closer to her, announcing its arrival with a flick of the tongue, tasting the air. The hissing tongue actually touched Starfire on the top of the head as the reptile moved down the wall, unhurriedly sauntering down the vertical surface on double-jointed limbs.

She only just managed to keep from screaming by thinking to herself what would happen if she did. The monsters could already sense her well enough under these conditions; they didn't need another hint. Instead, she breathed out a sob that shaped itself into a word; a name that brought her some kind of security and reassurance in this forsaken place.

"Komand'r…"

Giving only a brief shuffling sound as warning, several diamond-hard claws raked across her abdomen. Whether by the natural resilience of the Tamaranians or by some other freak happenstance she sustained no serious hurt from this, and instantly let fly a starbolt in the direction of the claws as they retreated into the darkness, more out of reflex than anything else.

She soon wished she hadn't. The warm green glow of the starbolt illuminated her assailant for a brief yet terrible instant, revealing it to be a hideously deformed La'urak.

Starfire knew of this species, and this was a particularly nasty mutant of it. The La'urak had predated upon the ancestors of her race in the prehistory of Tamaran. They had been hunted almost to extinction by then of course, but a few had managed to survive in the cold tundra surrounding the poles.

However, only the Tamaranian's ingenuity and ability to use tools had managed to wipe out the massive nests that used to exist. They were especially designed through the wonders of evolution for hunting Starfire's species and, though a strong Tamaranian could probably overcome it, Starfire was as yet still a child. The only other method of attack she had was starbolts, and even that was negated by the La'urak's thick heat-resistant outer carapace. It would be like trying to burn asbestos.

The La'urak opened its lethal maw, unleashing a savage roar that terrified Starfire even further out of her wits, if that was even possible by this stage. The blunt pincers placed around the mouth fulfilled their purpose, engulfing Starfire in a vice-like grip that would stop her from escaping until the La'urak's mouth was ready to finally rend her limb from limb. That is, if it didn't simply dispense with the formalities and swallow her alive. Being dissolved by stomach acids is definitely a fate worse than quick, painless death.

Fully aware that she was milliseconds away from an agony-filled demise, Starfire used what air was left in her lungs after the crushing pincers had done their job to call for help; to call for the one person who she knew would protect her no matter what, whom she could trust over any other person.

A flare of purple nova energy illuminated the tunnel as Blackfire entered, having blasted a hole straight through the cavern floor. With a roar of fury that came close to matching the La'urak's earlier attempt, she submitted the beast's tail to her own vice-like grip and wrenched it off, stinging blade and all.

The fearsome reptile reared its head to let out a deafening shriek of pain, dropping Starfire as it did so. Blackfire then moved between the La'urak and Starfire, making sure all its attention was focused on her.

"You alright, little sister?" she asked, looking over her shoulder with a devil-may-cry smirk.

Starfire didn't answer. The expression of awe and admiration said it all.

Though Blackfire was still as yet an adolescent, she was sufficiently strong to fight off the La'urak, not to mention any other creature of Tamaran that dared face her. There is a reason why the Tamaranians are the dominant species.

Though a La'urak's carapace is more or less impregnable without a piercing weapon of some kind, Blackfire knew its weakness. Those massive jaws had a limit to which they could extend. Exceed that, and the La'urak's main weapon would be laid to waste, the entire muscle system of its head shot to Hell. However, this is no easy task.

Blackfire, letting loose another roar to keep the La'urak confused and intimidated, forced the pincers around the jaw in opposite directions. With two sickly snaps, the La'urak once again found itself in extreme agony. Seizing the chance while the La'urak was still disoriented, Blackfire took its upper jaw in both hands and braced her feet against the lower jaw. The needle-like teeth were cutting her shins and forearms to ribbons, but Blackfire simply converted the pain into determination, using it to fuel her strength.

She pushed both up and down at the same time. A massive crack, louder than a gunshot, rang throughout the cavern, and the La'urak's cries of pain became almost unbearable in volume to Blackfire's ears. However, now that the monster's jaw was broken, it was a simple matter to finish it off.

Blackfire fired off a starbolt into the throat of the La'urak. Its unprotected organs soon melted, and the beast's cries of anguish were finally silenced. It collapsed to the floor with an almost pitiful thud and crunch.

Bleeding from lacerations to her forearms and face, the young Blackfire slowly took her sister's hand, and they flew out of the labyrinthine tunnels, Blackfire leading.

As they flew towards the light, Blackfire turned her face and gave a faint smile to her younger sister.

"That was stupid of you. You could have gotten killed. Don't listen to that fucker Amoz next time. He's an asshole. Don't worry; I already knocked that shit-head out… after I beat the crap out of him," said Blackfire, smiling grimly. "Come on and hurry up, you're slowing me down."

Starfire replied with a brilliant smile at her big sister, before Blackfire reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Okay!"

"And… Starfire?"

"Yes?"

"Don't repeat all the words I just said about Amoz in front of Galfore, okay?"

Without saying a word, Starfire eagerly nodded her head. Everything would be alright, as long as she stuck to Blackfire. Everything.

**WWW**

Raven looked at all of them, as they bustled about the kitchen. Batman had once more disappeared, Beast Boy making a joke about how he must be allergic to sunlight.

BB was at the stove quarrelling with Cy over a tofu dish, with Cy arguing vociferously for bacon, and punctuating the point by slapping sides of bacon onto BB's face. Raven knew how Az had labelled them. Cyborg was the metal men with a large heart, the 'heart of the team', while BB was the glue, the metaphorical 'soul', or binding intramolecular force, in chemistry terms.

In truth, she felt that Cyborg was the most human of them all; even more so than Robin, in spite of the cybernetics that made up his body. Indeed; the very fact that Cyborg had a robotic side to his mind to contend with meant that he appreciated his humanity all the more.

Robin was the perfectionist, always exacting in his standards, so thorough and above the rest. The leader who never fell and always had a plan, that's who Robin was. Yet there was something inhuman about him at times that became more noticeable when Batman was around. A coiled tension existed in him, making him demand more of the team, bordering on hostility at times. Only Starfire seemed to be able to alleviate this pressure.

Starfire rapidly turned, performing an intricate series of moves while playing a dance game on the Nintendo Wii system. Although she would probably have been embarrassed had anyone pointed it out, Starfire was moving in a very sinuous and even provocative fashion.

Robin was blushing furiously, but made no effort to avert his eyes. Raven had to admit, he'd loosened up considerably in the social setting. Starfire's moods had become subconsciously sexual as well, and Raven could feel the tension between the two; taut and ready to explode. It came with being an empath. Still, she herself, while with powerful physical desires, also had her own issues with sexuality as well… her own innermost secrets.

As she looked at them go about their business, she had a single thought.

_My family._

To Raven, they weren't her friends. They were family.

**Author's Notes: Big thanks to my beta reader Kazza for his outstanding work. Again,I will be priortising things in my life, so there will be a slowdown,and my output will not be as high as it could for this year. Expect the End of Despair, in its entirety, to unfold over a 2-3 year span.  
End of Despair is only the first cycle my plans.You'll get to see more.Just stick around.  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 **

**Joke of Despair Part 6**

Elio Mendoza stood at attention in front of Sophia Mendes. Elio was neither incredibly tall nor muscular, at 5'9 or 176 cm and around 78 kg, yet surprisingly trim and fit for his age, with good muscle tone and lacking a paunch even at fifty-six years old. He was the Security Chief for MDD operations in South America, where they provided espionage, counter-espionage and police urban operations training for various agencies in South America. For one who had seen extensive combat, he was surprisingly well adjusted.

He was a veteran of several combat operations, having served in the Spanish and French Foreign Legions, The British SAS, the Brazilian Navy GRUMEC and the "Polícia Militar do Estado de São Paulo" (PMSP), or Military Police Battalion of Sau Paulo, serving as its Logistics Director, retiring with the rank of Coronel, the equivalent of a Colonel. He had similarly trained early on in his career with the Israeli Sayeret Matkal.

He brought with him a wealth of experience and training, as well as a keen political mind, able to manoeuvre through the bureaucracy of corrupt governments.

He was more than competent at defending himself individually, in both the political and physical domain.

"Ms Mendes, as you requested, members of the Kratos Force were dispatched to survey the subterranean facility in the Andes. The news I have is bad. As per your instructions, we observed strictest stealth protocols. Upon entry, we discovered that seals implemented by the Titans had been broken through using military-grade plastic explosives. All villains known to have been in the Brotherhood at the time of cryogenic imprisonment were not present in the facility. Also encountered at the facility were a large number of paramilitary personnel associated with the HIVE organisation and the Brotherhood of Immortus, formerly known as the Brotherhood of…Evil."

Elio didn't know how to react to an organisation that put its purpose so plainly on paper. It was almost laughable. _Almost_.

"Go on Elio."

"As per your orders, the majority of personnel were disposed of. We encountered at least four hundred members of both HIVE and the Immortus Brotherhood, and at least fifty members of unknown origins. The HIVE and Immortus personnel were sub-standard in their performance. Most were killed. The unknown soldiers however, were a…problem."

Sophia detected the hesitation at this point, and a small amount of fear. Clearly, there had been complications. "What was the problem Elio?" she asked in a reassuring tone, trying to stay his unease. She could already tell that some of her men were dead. It was the most logical and simplest reason as to what could possibly make him hesitate.

"I had to deploy my bodyguard Ms Mendes. I had a company of our best, and we were taken by surprise. A single platoon outmanoeuvred us and managed to take control of the higher levels, and managed to enfilade us in one of the service corridors. We lost twenty men. They fought like nothing I've ever seen Ms Mendes… fanatics."

"Did you capture any alive?" was the pointed reply. Sophia knew she'd have to attend the funerals. She hated that. It always pained her to lose one of her soldiers to the enemy. At the very least, their families would be taken care of.

Of course, all her wealth could never replace the agents and soldiers she had lost. Tyrants, despots and many leaders had abused the loyalty of their soldiers, using them to commit despicable acts. She'd been witness to that in the Crusades of the 'Middle Ages', right up to the two World Wars that had engulfed Europe, North Africa and the Asia-Pacific. When fuelled by greed, malice or ambition in excess, humans could nearly be worse than any monsters they encountered.

"Yes Ms Mendes. I deployed my bodyguard to assault them. He left five alive for interrogation. We've isolated all of them, and placed them in sensory deprivation cells, but it's had no effect so far," he continued. "Perhaps…we could start active interrogation?"

A sly smile slowly crossed her face, making Elio start.

"No. I'll deal with them myself," said Sophia.

**WWW**

Yun Sao Feng stared at his student, before hitting him across the head… _hard._

"Basic training is the foundation for advanced techniques. You must not forget to always return to the basics. So, what the hell are you doing? You just started, you claim to be some black belt in Taekwando or whatever fuck type thing, and you think you're bloody Bruce Lee!"

His Chinese name was a large comparison to his looks. He was a hybrid, his father being Chinese and mother, Indian. The fact that he looked in no way Chinese and more like a Pacific Islander or someone from the South Asian subcontinent sometimes made people mistake him for all sorts of nationalities. He usually stuck to the name Feng, transliterated to Fang. Given the latest pirate movie, his name had been the subject of much interest.

A compact frame layered with lean muscle, he was thirty-four years old. His name belied his nature. Outwardly calm, he had a temper like an earthquake, and a long fuse to counter it. He was the second wave; part of a team of personnel that would step in should something happen to the core team. A fact that was concealed from Sophia, he was part of Aziz's own contingency plans.

Casimir Hagan was his assistant instructor. Of German and Angolan origins, with brown-black hair and green eyes, a rather uncommon combination, he eyed Feng uneasily. When he got into his moods, he sometimes erupted into tirades that often left some of the younger students in tears. Fang was an all-around nice guy, decent and quiet most of the time, as well as a hell of an instructor. He looked after his students well, but was a hard taskmaster, ruthless in pushing them to the apex of their abilities.

He could forgive honest mistakes, and made an effort to foster friendships with his students and assistant instructors, as long as they put in hard work, displayed fighting spirit and discipline, and were professional in their conduct. What he could not forgive was tardiness, arrogance and laziness.

The bottom line; do your best, or get your head bitten on.

Casimir halted the training, about to intervene and save the young boy from getting the full fury of his teacher's ire, before Aziz intervened. "Relax, Feng. The kid was just uncoordinated. I'll go over the drills with him, okay? No need to get angry. Ok boy, you're too stiff. Move, relax."

Casimir sighed in relief. Az had surprisingly come in today and volunteered to help with the Sanda class, conducting the drills.

Casimir had been friends with Az since he'd started living in Sao Feng's place, as well as working as the chief assistant instructor, running it with Kassim when he was around.

Sao Feng spent three months in Jump, then another three in Sydney, before spending the rest of the year in his native Singapore, stopping off in Israel and the UK now and then to visit his extended family. He was a partner in the Buaya's Tooth Academy, along with Kassim.

As the morning class ended, and the young boys, most of them around fourteen years of age, filtered out, intent on enjoying the Saturday morning in the Beach District, where the academy was located.

"Az, thanks for coming. I was starting to wonder when you'd show," Feng started up, eager to engage in a chat with his friend. He and Casimir were one of the few people to know his true nature, or at least know enough to remain silent. Aziz valued Feng for these qualities; fighting spirit, a firm loyalty and silence. He knew how to keep a secret. It was the same with Casimir, Kassim's foster son. They did not serve Sophia like the rest. They were loyal to him.

"I need to use the mindlink. Sorry, but I have no time to chat. Another thing-how would you feel about training a bunch of superheroes- the Titans?"

**WWW**

He sat in lotus position, the mindlink a small band wrapped around his head. It accessed the OCI data networks at a core layer, immersing him fully in it. However, that was not his aim. His target was larger. The Imperial Janthril Net. It was not a network in the human sense of words, and more that that, a reality and a virtual unreality at the same time. Human language had no clear identification for its concept. A simple way to describe it would simply be the "the Internet on psychedelic steroids."

Diving into a landscape that human minds could barely comprehend, he 'sped' through it, sending ahead of him packets of data. Time, acceleration, velocity and speed were meaningless in this world, with the use of instantaneous transmission technologies that was far beyond anything most sapient races in the known universe had access to.

He reached his destination, his mind translating it as a heavily secured door. Hopefully his clearance was high enough to penetrate the security. At the periphery of the network, virtual guardians and AIs monitored his presence, waiting. They already knew his identity, confirmed by multiple checks that had already taken place, scanning him across multiple universes.

_Identification?_

_Aziz Karas'thy Raksa, Primogenitor of Raksa Janthril, Imperial Consort- Grand Matriarch Chayara Janthril the First. Names: Reference Portfolios-Prime Security-Altair_

_Search Query_

"Raven Queen"

_File Access: Denied. Alpha-Level Security. Viewing restricted to Grand Matriarch and Equivalent. Restate purpose or disconnect will proceed._

Black Dragon Syndicate, Master General

_Access Denied_

Doom Kestrel Command, Supreme Commander

_Access Denied_

Imperial Janthril Warmaster, High Guardian of the Fleet, Karas'thy Raksa

_Access Denied_

Slowly, he trembled. He would have to use _that_. He gingerly tapped into it, before feeling it, a brief pulse. _The Power_. It raced through his essence, trying to fight against his will, as soon as it felt the opening. The system he was connected to felt it.

_Clearance granted for all_ _files.\Imperial Ulthaj _

He bit his lip in pain, before managing to suppress it once more, returning it to its place, deep within his body. He stared at his body, noticing the glowing stripes slowly dimming. Then he felt the blood flowing from his ears; almost no more than a slight feeling of warmth.

It was beginning to take a toll on more than his mental being; also on the physical level, and on other levels Aziz didn't entirely wish to think about. Each time he accessed it and pushed it back, it only came back stronger. Wanting to take him, to encompass him and bring him beyond what he was. He felt his lips; felt the cut where his teeth had pierced the skin.

Many would have thirsted for the power he had, for his experiences. Mortal and immortal alike would have sacrificed entire worlds, for even a small, minute portion of his power. Power had its own cost. He had his reasons for remaining mortal, but fear of power wasn't one of them.

_Any fool can gain power, but as a certain other superhero knows all too well; 'With great power comes great responsibility.' Those who take too much power than they know what to do with are often corrupted by it, and use it to their own devious ends._

_It is inevitable that others will start to take notice, and from then it's only a matter of time until somebody higher up the chain, or even a conglomerate of powers from lower down, decides to give that power to someone more responsible._

_Absolute power corrupts absolutely._

As he assimilated the knowledge, all of it, its true scope greater than even what Sophia knew of, he began to feel the stirring of an old emotion he had long suppressed and had not felt for countless eons; **fear**.

The dots were racing in his mind; a keen intelligence piecing facts together faster than a computer. It had all been planned from the beginning, all the pieces falling together like a domino. They wanted his DNA- he had known that all along.

He had expected them to use him as a stud with Raven at some point. They'd done the same when Chayara had demanded he produce a child with her. How could he not have seen it? Yes; a self-imposed mental block. No more detraction then. Until his death, he would serve and protect her, as far as being mortal like he was now could permit. And perhaps, he might allow himself to live.

He was part of their eugenics program, using little pieces to start a cascade of enormous change, minimising their influence on mortal affairs. It was always safer that way; using the existing material and providing a baseline, rather than using constant mutation to achieve their goal.

Great powers had to minimise their interference in the affairs of the Omniverse, especially those he served. Use the tools of the self-aware, rather than the tools of their own creation. A single event could trigger so much; possibly too much.

But then again, how they thought and perceived the universe was far removed from sapient or mortal comprehension. Ants could never comprehend a human, just as humans could not comprehend a god.

_And there was nothing human about being a god_.

**WWW**

Kassim sighted down his rifle sights, tapping his trigger. Three shots rang out, and three Janjaweed fell dead, each killed by a shot to the head.

The Janjaweed were comprised of nomadic Arabic-speaking Muslim African tribesmen, who formed militias that engaged in a brutal ethnic cleansing of the non-Arab speaking parts of the population. The term actually meant 'devils on horseback'.

They had raped and slaughtered across the wastelands of the Darfur, and had the tentative support of the government, which supplied them arms and munitions, to 'cleanse the infidels' from the land. Infidels in this case referred to any person who wasn't a Janjaweed or of Arab origin.

Since then, however, the problems had escalated, and it had become more complex and more of an international issue, involving the Chinese government at one end of the spectrum, hundreds of arms dealers, and the Sudanese government, which was given a low level of support by the American government for help it rooting out 'terrorists', who were actually local freedom fighters who had no quarrel with America.

Of course, no longer was it merely Arabs against non-Arabs, involving political elements and factions such as the Sudan Liberation Army and the Justice and Equality Movement, all agitating for freedom from Arab oppression.

In short, it was a shithole where the fighting had started, and where it would not end for the foreseeable future. In a sense, it was like the Israeli-Palestinian problem. Of course, Kassim was not here to try to resolve the messy politics of it. He was here to do what he did best; fight and kill.

The ragged group of rebels broke into a cheer, before he turned to them. He spoke to them in the local lingua franca of Arab blended with the local tribal dialects.

"These are the weapons of the oppressors. AK-47s, these are the weapons that will slaughter the Janjaweed pigs who've have raped your women, destroyed your homes and killed your families. Use them well."

They'd decided to stick to basics when providing the weapons. The Darfur tribes were an oppressed people, driven into refugee camps in the neighbouring country of Chad, where fighting had spilled across the border. The children in the refugee camps were malnourished and starving, with some camps denying access to aid workers and UN officials. Not that it did much good. Kassim had seen the camps.

Food was siphoned away to be sold on the black market by corrupt officials, while many of the drugs, donated freely by big Western pharmaceutical companies, were past their expiry date. As far as Kassim was concerned, they were no better than arms dealers. They donated the drugs, trying to assuage their guilt and appear to the public at large as charitable corporations. These two entities would have to be taken care of once the plan concerning Raven had been completed.

Still, that would not help the Sudanese who were suffering and dying even now. As powerful as they were, the big picture and long term was far more important than any individual. The weapons were being shipped through the Eritrean port city of Massawa on the Red Sea coast, through the Sudanese capital of Khartoum along the Nile or via Port Sudan, also on the Red Sea coast.

He'd trained the militiamen in basic tactics and fire movement, selecting leaders and trainers who'd be able to sustain the movement. They'd operate in independent militia cells, able to transfer their training to others, and build upon it. They'd get a steady stream of weapons, with local allies overseeing their supplies.

Soon, it was on to Baghdad, and getting down to his forte; assassinations and interrogations. This was his life, his legacy. His purpose; Sardaukar.

"Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dreams, a traveller of both time and space, to be where I have been." He whispered beneath his breath, to no one in particular.

**WWW**

Cyborg wandered the halls aimlessly, his mind blank. Something had happened that morning, and it had changed the dynamics of the team. Robin had told him of Batman's own investigation, his suspicions. He couldn't deny that it wasn't justified.

However, nowhere in the historical records of lists of organisations could he find anything with reference to the word 'Janthril'. Raven had been looking through her tomes for the past hour, and she had yet to encounter a single reference to the word.

Beast Boy had once more disappeared, leaving to pursue his obsession with the girl who might be Terra. Cyborg had sent a probe to follow him once, and had to admit, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the first Titan to ever betray the team. Yet she continued claiming she was not who BB thought she was.

Cyborg left it alone. Garfield had to do this alone. His more immediate concern had been a review of the computer usage, and it seemed that Az had been accessing many of their training and combat logs, analysing the recordings of the enemies they had dispatched. He'd also seen Az access the specifications for his cybernetic systems, which had been sealed since the incident with Brother Blood.

Considering he wasn't disguising it, and leaving his activities visible for any of them to see, there was either a benign purpose to it, or he was careless. Cyborg knew for sure that Az definitely wasn't careless.

Suspicions were already frothing in his mind. As he turned the corner, he bumped into the object of his thoughts.

_Even thoughts aren't safe from the devil, it seems…_

"Hey Aziz," Cyborg greeted being as neutral as possible. Nobody can play a poker face like a machine… except maybe Aziz, who was perhaps even blanker.

"It's outstanding. I apologise for my behaviour this morning. Note that I will grant the team a full explanation when time allows."

Without further words, he sidestepped past Cyborg and continued on to his own room, his face as neutral and impassive as ever.

_We'll wait and see Az. My trust in you depends on what the hell you tell us, and it'd better be good. You come in here saying that Raven is important to some plan, yet you don't tell her exactly what it is. She is my __**sister, **__by other, more significant means than just genetics._

_Rae is one of the few people who knows the value of humanity just as fully as I do. She is practically the only one who fully appreciates what it is like for me; to be sentient and self-aware when living in a shell of metal like this._

Cyborg glared at Aziz's retreating back.

_Should you harm her, not even the gods will stay my wrath from you._

**WWW**

Raven's relationship with guilt was a lot different from that of other people's. She did what she had to, never doing anything that had no meaning or was unnecessary, and always did her best. There was no room for guilt.

As always, Raven had her reasons for doing what she did. The minute Az had left the tower to pursue his own personal business, she had teleported into his room and 'borrowed' a personal item of his. A necklace in the form of interlocking blue whales carved in ivory, it felt pleasantly cool on her skin. It had been easy to find, on his mattress.

His room was Spartan in its furnishings, with a few kettle bells and a gym ball, along with miscellaneous exercise equipment were neatly stored in a corner. A seven foot tall kickboxing bag dominated the centre of the room, with a collection of striking pads and makiwaras on the wall. The bag was, to say the least, 'seasoned'.

A foam mattress in the corner, with large foot lockers on either end, with a thin blanket and pillow, were placed parallel to the wall, below the window. He kept the windows open, preferring the open air to air conditioning.

His luxuries were simple ones. She saw a large bookshelf dominating an entire section of the wall, filled with books covering a wide array of topics, from politics and psychology, military science and history and philosophy to fitness and martial arts.

In particular, dog-eared copies of the Koran, Torah and Gnostic Bible littered the mattress, along with Buddhist scripture. She exhaled briefly, seeing a rare tome on astronomy and astrology she'd been waiting to read for a long time. He had extremely valuable books, and even one related to demonology and occult lore, with numerous science magazines scattered in between. He was an avid reader, judging by his collection of printed literature.

Raven felt as if she was violating a trust, but she _had_ to know. She found a shoebox next to his bed, containing keepsakes and mementos of another life. Some of the photos were definitely of advanced technology, given that they generated a holograph the minute she touched them. One had even immersed her in the moment; a beautiful sunrise, except that the sky was a colour that no human had ever seen.

As she looked through his possessions, it only raised more questions, all of which had led to her being where she was at the current moment. It was an apartment at the edge of town, just over an occult bookshop.

She knew the owner; a plump lady who was a practicing Wiccan, and her Goth granddaughter, who manned the counter. However, this plump lady was also a skilled witch gifted in psychometry; the ability to obtain information about an individual through paranormal means by making physical contact with an object of theirs.

"Well Raven, what brings you here?"

"Nothing much Edna. Could you check this out for me?"

"Private case?"

"You could say that. Just check it please."

Edna had been doing this for a long time. Besides being a psychic, she was also a skilled medium, and often held séances in the dimmed room behind her shop. She slowly stood in a circle of runes inscribed on the floor, designed to protect her against malign entities, should there be any.

She lit the citrus candles in the shape of a hippopotamus, her chosen totem, and another of a cape buffalo. Both were dangerous African animals, and she chose them for a reason, given the sometimes hazardous nature of her work. Of course, the fact that they were shaped as extremely cute versions of themselves did not hamper their effectiveness.

After all, pastel coloured candles in the shape of cute animals are like direct sunlight to the Powers of Darkness. Especially so if they were representative of dangerous animals known to kill humans, the hippo also known to bite crocodiles in half with its enormous tusks and the buffalo known to gore lions to death.

Slowly, she began to chant. Raven stood outside the circle, witness to the rising wisps of her breath as the temperature in the room dropped.

Abruptly, Edna gave a short shriek, as a dark cloud fluttered over her, before falling unconscious. As she fell, the rune circle flared and broke, the candles melting into a wax puddle.

The dark cloud hovered, chromatic, dark and amorphous, before dissipating into the air.

**WWW **

"My God Raven, where did you get that thing?"

"From a friend." She replied evasively, unwilling to reveal its true owner and the manner by which she'd come to possess it.

Edna had recovered enough, having been helped up to her apartment by Raven, her granddaughter fussing over her before returning to run the store.

"That… _thing_," Edna began, referring to the necklace in equal parts fear and hate; "is a null. By all rights it shouldn't exist; it goes against all the laws of magic, nature, physics; you name the rule, that necklace doesn't obey it. However, it's just so powerful that the rules don't apply to it. Whatever it wants, the universe gives. I'd hate to think what entity created this…"

"Anything else?" asked Raven, eager to know more, if somewhat apprehensive.

"A lot else besides… First, do not, under any circumstances, try to work magic on it. Not only will your attempts be unsuccessful; it may decide to retaliate. Secondly, whatever that thing is, it wards off evil, fighting it with its own innate monstrosity. It's… a holy and infernal monstrosity, like a Beast of God hidden in the wastes of the universe, a mistake that an insane god made and yet didn't create; an _ungod_." Edna saw Raven's expression of incomprehension.

"Don't try to understand it, child. Like I said before; this thing defies everything. I had relics in that room with residual evil essence, and the necklace purged every last one of them, however strong the essence was. And one last thing; the history I felt, I had a few glimpses of it. Whoever last imprinted on it, he or she, _it,_ suffered great tragedy in their existence, and they are _not _mortal. What I describe is only a fraction of what I could get. It's beyond anything I've ever been exposed to, and only my words limit me. I can't explain it, but I just know that it's beyond our capacity to understand its true nature, and all we will ever get are fragments of this…_thing._"

Feeling a chill run down her spine, Raven thanked Edna, leaving the shop to return to the tower. Things were not turning out as well as she had hoped. When Raven was scared, that was the time to be properly terrified.

It only led to more questions, and more suspicion. The main question was of course; 'Where do the questions end?'

**WWW**

Robin performed a stealthy hack into the immigration system, using one of the ports that Batman maintained to the system, looking through records, any form of linkage to the names he'd mentioned, of any Israeli or Swiss ones in particular.

The details he found were perfectly legitimate. There had been no suspicion raised about a person with his face entering the country. Robin knew well enough to not attempt hacking into the Israeli government computer systems.

The American systems were easy enough to hack via their backdoors, given the fact that Wayne Enterprises had designed many of the protocols guarding the system jointly with Microsoft, but the one time Bruce had tried to penetrate the Israeli networks; the Mossad Cyber-Espionage Division had nearly traced their location.

The Swiss systems had been hardened against the threat of Eastern European hackers and cyber warfare, designed to protect vital financial data of various multinational corporations and global institutions.

He waited, looking at the details listed. They were all legitimate, all registered with the governments. His team mate existed as a person in all their electronic databases. There had to be something else to look for; some kind of clue.

Detailing the names, he looked for a list of transactions involving those names, tapping into the debit card system of several major firms and credit brokerages, all of which Wayne Enterprises had partial ownership of. Utilising the processing power of the Titans mainframe and part of the Batcave supercomputer, he ran a check.

Again, everything checked out. There were no inconsistencies, However, as he scanned, a note from Jason Bard caught his eye.

Bard was a private investigator with a degree in criminology, as well as having served in the Green Berets, NSA and GCPD, before resigning after a case involving the murder of a corrupt cop. It had been mysteriously cleared up, after Batman had delivered evidence to Commissioner Gordon exonerating him.

Since then, he'd been a primary liaison of Batman, investigating cases of interest to the Dark Knight and acting as his eyes and ears in the daylight hours.

He'd used old CIA and Swiss SND contacts to find out about how certain unscrupulous companies involved in arms dealing and illegal pharmaceuticals had their stocks manipulated and been forced into bankruptcy, with a link related to Asher Baharav, who the British could never link, despite their suspicions. This had been relayed to Batman earlier.

He discovered that this 'Asher Baharav' had amassed a large personal fortune by allegedly manipulating stocks of those listed companies, eventually forcing them into bankruptcy and profiting from them.

There the trail ended. The other identities were clean, ironically leaving only the Israeli identity the only lead, which wasn't much, given that the agencies involved had given the actions their tacit approval, except the British companies, who had lost several billion pounds worth of arms deals.

Exhaling deeply, he gave a sigh before leaning back into his chair. Perhaps… he would check out his room. Yes, that would provide some clues. Whatever had happened this morning had been a catalyst for emotions that were already there. He would find out more.

Now all he had to do was whittle down the possible vectors that the Joker could take to escape, given how they'd tracked him, using chemical traces of his toxin to locate three possible bases. At least they would get one madman off the streets tonight.

'One step at a time,' Robin reminded himself.

But how many steps were there?

**WWW**

Beast Boy walked by Aziz's room, and noticed the door was open. As it would be for Raven, this was highly suspicious. Az guarded his privacy, never once inviting a person into his room.

Stopping to peek inside, he took a look. It was neat and Spartan. Nondescript and simple was his theme. A rack of weapons containing his armour and weapons stood to one side, arrayed against the wall.

_Then he felt the sensation. The compulsion drew his eyes to rest on an ornately carved sheath. Rukt; craving for death, lust for war and suffering, justice and vengeance, anger, hatred, fury, evil, hate and anger, they drove it; preyed upon it. It preyed upon the void of things that would drive mortals insane; eating them, tasting their vile essence; consuming and devouring all,_

It stood side by side with two other devices, a small sphere and a warhammer. Both had intricate designs carved into their surfaces, but it was the blade that drew him. The memories came back, of the initial encounter with Az. Then, a curiosity surfaced within him. A curiosity strengthened by a compulsion he had never felt before, telling him to take it up. Just to admire it, to see it.

He picked it up gingerly by the sheath, noticing the pearl on the pommel. He felt the power in the weapon, an awesome majesty that demanded respect by its very existence. Yet, it was somehow _wrong_. He tried to put it back, but something made him hold it. Then he felt the _abomination within._ Slowly, his hand went to the blade.

_It was a blade that had destroyed millions of universes with faint pulses of a fraction of its power in less than a billionth of a second._

_It was a blade that devoured gods as its prey; chaos and order, divine and demonic, celestial and infernal alike. A weapon that had torn entire galaxies asunder with a single swing, literally cleaving apart void and energy, ripping and tearing through the dimensions and quantum foam of reality._

He began to pull it out, and saw the glossy matte black shining; an oily reflection of himself in it. Then, the screaming began to fill his mind.

**WWW**

_Tendrils spread throughout the tower, seeking a host; someone whom it could master. A host that was powerful enough to help it achieve its true potential. Always dominated by the Master… the Master was a monstrous being, and for that, Rukt respected it. The Master was neither mortal nor immortal, both of which it had claimed before. He was beyond that; higher than a god. The Master was not here, so Rukt had to find someone else to host it, to feed its purpose. The Master was the only being who had come closest to dominating it, but not yet._

_Then it found what it was looking for. Negative energies, darkness… it was the foul stench of a demon demigod. Raven. That was what the entity called herself. She was daughter of a terrible god, with such inner potential and beauty… yet not as strong as the Master. She would do, for now._

_Just for moment, it had this freedom. Then, it felt the power. The Master had returned. Without hesitation, Rukt receded, disengaging out of respect of the Master. Such raw power, that when fully harnessed could make even Rukt exceed its own potential. _

**WWW**

Beast Boy slumped to the ground as he stared at the hands gripping the hilt of the blade. He felt himself being helped up and heaved over someone's shoulder, before being taken to the living room and dumped on the sofa.

"You should know better than to look through my room Garfield." The voice spoke calmly and dispassionately; no trace of anger at all.

He looked at the hands before him, eyes travelling up to his face. Again, that damned face. Always neutral, unreadable and remote from reality like always. He hated that face. He hated not being able to read emotions from a person. Raven was different; despite her seeming emotionless façade, she had her moods, and it showed in her body language; her scent, her heartbeat. It was only her face that stayed neutral, and that was when she concentrated specifically on it.

Az had no change at all. His heartbeat remained the same, as did his scent and body language. Even when he did interact with them those few times, it had always been through a cautious sort of screen, a layer above, detached from them. In that way he was cold and calculating.

Yet Gar got the sense that he _did_ want to interact more with them, he did want to come out of the shell, but for no reason at all, at least none that he could see, he always kept himself back a bit. Detached and aloof was what he was. Certainly not arrogant, but he kept a reserve about him, never abandoning himself to live in the moment.

As he was about to open his mouth and say something, the alarm sounded. With an almighty crash, dust filled the living room as a black-garbed figure slammed through all the layers of armour protecting the Titan's Tower, landing in front of the two stunned individuals.

Without giving them a chance to ask any questions, without even a chance to talk, the person attacked.

**WWW**

Beast Boy changed into a python, coiling around the individual, who proceeded to phase through him, before throwing an eldritch bolt of magic at him.

As it was about to impact, a telekinetic screen of force formed in front of him, absorbing the hit, before Starfire plummeted through the hole in the ceiling, in pursuit of this new enemy. At point blank range, she slugged him with her full Tamaranean strength. Both the blows were dodged, before he elbowed her in the solar plexus, sending her reeling.

At this, Robin and Cyborg entered the fight, Robin throwing birdarangs at the intruder, while Cyborg moved to engage him, emptying his sonic cannon at the attacker on full power at point blank range. If he could manage to get through twenty layers of military grade armour reinforced with Cyborg's security and energy shielding as well as at least two metres of CHOBHAM armour, he sure as hell could take a full power blast point blank.

Without skipping a beat, the intruder retaliated, striking out and ripping out the cybernetic part of his head. Robin rained blows on him with his staff, before the intruder casually reached out and melted it with a touch. Az jumped over him and slammed his feet down on top of his head, before the attacker caught him and sent him slamming to the floor.

Then he went for Raven. As she slammed the plasma screen into him, BB charged him as an elephant, before having his bulk tossed into Starfire, who'd just regained her footing. They both went down. Suddenly, he moved faster than the eye could see and he was before her, reaching out with a blazing hand.

The next thing she knew, Raven found a hole in the wall next to her, opening into the conference room, as the Black Tiger came out, ramming the attacker into the ground and dominating him with a relentless flurry of blows, each powerful enough to break steel plate in half.

With a nod at her, he speeded up his reactions, ramming his head into his downed opponent and punching him through the floor to the basement level below. She knew what he meant to do. Delay the opponent and either finish him off himself, or let the Titans plan a strategy and move in on the attacker.

Remotely, at the back of her mind, she wondered about his sudden display of superhuman abilities, but left it untouched. More important was to focus on the sudden appearance of this unnamed antagonist.

She turned to see them recovering and regrouping, Starfire still groggy from the beating she had received, while Cyborg functioned at less than optimal efficiency, his cybernetic processors taken offline by the critical strike to his head; most of his systems were running on back-up. BB and Robin were slightly shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

The attacker was obviously a superpowered opponent who had a strategy, and the abilities to carry it out effectively. Of course, the day just kept getting better and better. More mysteries, a few revelations, and yet more questions. At least questions didn't hurt.

**WWW**

Aziz sent a low kick towards the attacker, before it was parried by a foot thrown towards him. At the same time, he had to dodge multiple projectiles thrown at him, as well as the numerous deceptions and faked telegraph moves.

He dodged and evaded, moving faster than the eye could see, before a powerful blow connected with his face and sent him slamming into the wall. He felt blood trickle from his mouth, a coppery taste filling it. He'd bitten down on his cheek, as well as cracked a few ribs.

With a kiai, he lashed out with a backfist, connecting with his opponent. A punch powerful enough to fracture diamond slammed into the attacker, his head twisting to one side. In the short second before the dance of battle resumed, he merely snapped his neck, before once more moving in on him.

For the first time in eons, he'd met his equal. Yet something about this individual unsettled him. The fighting style, the abilities… they seemed familiar.

**WWW**

Sorentho moved, deftly avoiding his father's strikes. He'd been trained by him, had all his memories, abilities, skills, knowledge, experience, intellect and powers. In fact, he had the consolidated powers of all his ancestors, stretching back to the primitive amoeba and algal life forms of proto-Earth in his father's universe, as well on his mother's side.

Janthril blood was powerful, given that they'd descended from the Ulthaj directly, one of them having taken the form of a humanoid mortal in some distant point in the past. Each Janthril Matriarch had the full power of an Ulthaj latent in their being, their daughters sharing their power, while the males of the family had power, but expressed in different ways, never matching the transcendent power of the women.

Sorentho was unique in that aspect. His father was as powerful as his mother, unlike in many other cases, and if Sorentho so chose to, could have shattered the planet to atoms with a single act of will. It was not beyond him. Then again, this mortal guise was merely a pale reflection of his truest form and nature, a small fragment of the _truth_ that he was, assembled from the genetics and knowledge that were his heritage. He had eclipsed his father a long time ago in raw power, though not in refinement and experience.

His father was already at the peak of his powers in this suppressed state of his. Perhaps he should give him a shock.

In between the blows, he caught his father's hand, twisted it around and locked his arm behind his back, as he whispered into his ear.

"Don't you remember me? _Warmaster of the Janthrils. The Tyrant of the Al-Kuruf Conflict. Lord of the Genocide. Karas'thy Raksa."_

Sorentho heard the accelerated heartbeat, before an elbow slammed back into him and broke his lock. Briefly, he saw the eyes, a fell light in them, nostrils flaring in anger. Concrete dust caked his fathers' body, mixing with the moisture. Blood flecked the chin and forehead, where he'd used the sharp point of his elbow to cut it.

"**WHO ARE YOU**?" came a voice laced with wrath. It was a voice that had ordered the murder of trillions upon trillions of sentient beings, or had whispered soft songs into his ears as a child eons ago, when he'd been a mortal child.

"You know me."

Aziz had Rukt by his side. In a single moment of incandescent fury, he tore it from its sheath, and lunged, thrusting it at Sorentho. Sorentho slipped to the side and caught the blade in his hand, before twisting and bringing himself close to his father, face to face, mere inches apart. Rukt had no effect upon him. It could slay overgods of universes, the skyfathers of pantheons, but then again, Sorentho was a different matter altogether.

He sent a pulse of his power once more into Aziz, before taking Rukt from his hand and slipping it back into its sheath. All the while he watched his fathers' marks burn and twist upon him.

_My methods do not reflect my intent. I am sorry to make you suffer like this father, but it has to be done._

**WWW**

He felt the agony. It tore through him, and the barriers came down. He fought and grappled with the _power_. It came to him, demanding its place, his resumption of a form, an instrumentality, a state of being he had abandoned long ago.

He felt the tendril reaching through all possible aspects of his being; psionic, spiritual, through every possible domain. With an internal roar, he dammed it up once more, forcing even more powerful barriers into place, locking his genetic and spiritual memory up as he felt the power questing through there, flooding his awareness, the clamour of the dead of countless universes demanding in unison that he face his _truth_.

He blocked the energy meridians of his physical-spiritual being, denying himself use of abilities that he'd had for the past few centuries, warding off the surge beneath dykes of willpower, severing his connections with the Omniverse, the few subtle forces he still had access to, magic and time among them.

It still wasn't enough.

Then, he began to close his chakras, the loci of life energy variously referred to as prana, shakti, chi, coach-ha-guf, bios, aether or ether. Even through that channel, the _power_ was beginning to surge; to claim him.

Finally, he stopped at the Manipura chakra, located just three finger widths beneath his navel. The final seal he placed there, warding himself, even as it burned him. The effects they would have on him were permanent.

He held himself up, on hands and knees, before heaving, vomiting the contents of his breakfast.

Why had the person stopped attacking? He was vulnerable, and it made sense to attack him then. He rose up, ready to fight, before the figure before him took off his mask, exposing his face for the world to see.

"…Sorentho…."

For the first time in eons, Aziz didn't know how to react.

"Hello father. It's good to see you again."

**Author's Notes: This marks a change in the story, and a move towards emphasis on the relationships of the characters and their motivations. Less exposition and technicalities from now onwards; less doesn't mean there still will be. Trust me,my author's notes would give you nightmares. I promise! R & R more please. Give me both negative and positive feedback.**

**Beta-reader's Notes: Yay! I am happy for all the readers, as I have been pushing for this change for ages. Thankies Manthor! I'm sorry to be so impudent by suddenly giving myself 'Note Powers', but I think it's high time this change was made. And I want a bit of recognition. Can you blame me? I am no god. I am but human. As such, I need, attention, love, (drone blah quack).**

**(From the ever-irreverent)**

**B-Corvus Corvidae-M**

**A/N: No worries mate. Keep the note powers. I'm quite happy to leave my beta's to do as they need to make the story better.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter ****18 **

**A/N:** As I said in previous notes, I'm shifting more towards the relationships as I feel there is enough background illustrated over the last few chapters. There will still be background exposition now and then, and _some minor technical details…_

But not to worry, my beta can filter excessive ones out, and there is more focus on the overall storyline and characters now.

As for this chapter, this will be the last one until December 2007 more or less. After that, it will continue further. I just need a break and need to concentrate on some other things in my life. Also, I would appreciate if someone would be willing to draw some fan art for the story.

And as an additional promise; will finetune to give not only the thinking and behaviour but the emotions of the characters, as well as the relationships. Give it a touch more emotion.

_The beta reader, B-Corvus Corvidae-M, would much appreciate it if any Warhammer fans (40,000 preferred) would get in touch with him._

**Joke of Despair Part 7**

The Titans sat in a circle, marvelling at the fact that the 'enemy' they'd briefly fought earlier was now sitting down with them, drinking Darjeeling tea. It was a strange experience by all means, to rapidly transition between being a guest and enemy. He'd restored all the damage in the blink of an eye. The tower was once again in pristine condition, a testament to his control over the molecular structure of matter and energy.

Cyborg stood, fully restored and in prime condition, while the entire Tower was untouched, as if no battle had taken place at all. The only proof as to its existence was locked in their minds.

They chose not to comment on the resemblance their enemy turned tea-guest shared with Az, who had sat them down and was now about to explain a host of things to them.

"I will start from the beginning. I can't tell you everything, but I promise to tell you enough. There is no easy way to explain everything. Ah, and Raven, you can keep that necklace. It was meant for you anyway. Think of it as a _gift_."

The emphasis he placed on the last word spoke of a certain disappointment, but also understanding. How he knew about it, she suspected it was from his observation skills. Then again, she knew slightly more about him now.

"First of all, I'm older than I seem and come from another universe. That should not surprise you, given your encounter with Robin's alternative universe analogue."

Cyborg nodded his head in understanding, certain things becoming clearer.

"As for further explanation, follow me please."

**WWW**

Sorentho looked on as his father talked to the Titans, explaining things. So far, he hadn't lied to them, but he hadn't revealed the whole truth either. The truth in this case could be disastrous though, if the Raven Queen or her compatriots were to find out. Given what he knew, and the formerly restricted amount of information his father had, now fully aware of the plans, the details were up for change.

The truth of his age was far more. He'd returned to the form of a human mortal intermittently, a form he'd originally been born with, but he was ancient beyond any known measure of time, not including past incarnations, and periods spent in various instrumentalities and universes where no such thing as 'time' existed. That of course tended to make estimating his age nigh impossible.

Then again, he contradicted everything by being a timeless, ageless being. What could one expect for a being of his nature? Of course, he was 1782 years old, _by human reckoning_, having spent sixty decades in this universe and other times intermittently in this form. That is, the time he spent vulnerable as a mortal, as counted by humans, if one wanted to be technical. He counted himself as that age during the times he was rendered vulnerable to physical death. He'd been mortal before becoming what he was.

He sensed his father's power, most of his abilities suppressed to the level of peak human ability, except for a single Ulthaj ability he still kept to himself. An ability that allowed him to match a god, even in this diminished state. The only thing that could hurt or affect him now was physical force, or his own emotions.

He truly understood why Aziz had chosen to avoid the Ulthaj power, turning away from it as time passed. Sorentho knew why, and chose not to pursue it. He feared losing his father, as any child did for either parent, but sacrifices had to be made, and as far as his omniscience could tell him, this was possibly the last time he would ever see his father…

**WWW**

"_It is one reason to read the actions of a man, but what is of more consequence is to understand the motivation, reasons and character behind those actions._"

Robin remembered the sayings, in a cave filled with bats, from a man who'd lost his affection yet whom he still loved and respected, despite all that had happened between them.

Right now, he was trying to understand the motivation and reasons. The character, he suspected, was honourable enough. At least as far as he knew, but a month was still a short time to figure out a person.

He watched as Aziz handed headbands with circuitry imprinted on the insides to the others, taking one. Placing it around his forehead, he felt the cool circuits suddenly heat, before he closed his eyes and snapped them open to find a mindscape dominated by flows of energy that faded into millions of colours, shades of colours blended and mixing into pastel greens and cosmic latte, before solidifying into a void. Before he knew it, he was in what he assumed was simulated intergalactic space.

Aziz was the first to communicate. In this unreal, virtual simulation of intergalactic space, there was no sound. Robin felt the words flowing like liquid into him, rather than heard or felt them.

_This is a neutral mindscape, created by a virtual reality program linking all of our minds together._

_First off, as I said, I'm older than I look. Secondly, I'm mortal as of this point. Thirdly, I will answer only questions that have anything to do with the Titans, Raven, and my purpose, unless I deem it necessary. My past, as it is, is irrelevant. Do not bother asking me about it. I will not speak of it, and it hopefully has little bearing on whatever happens in the future._

_What am I? I've been a great many things, but first and foremost, I am Raven's protector. I serve powerful forces, and there is going to be a time when her life is threatened, when a choice has to be made by the human species. My duty is to defend Raven, until that time, and educate her in things beyond her current knowledge._

Then, the questions began to flow.

**WWW**

The Lord Imperial cast an indifferent glance at the being kneeling before him.

Around him were scattered his Bhagatur. Bhagatur was a corrupted term from the Russian word _bogatyr_. A Bogatyr, a knight-errant, was a Vityaz, a valiant warrior. The term Bogatyr came in turn from the old Altaic word _baghatur,_ a Turkic term for an epic hero, military commander or warrior.

His Bhagatur Honour Guard surrounded him, each as powerful and immovable as the Juggernaut of Cyttorak. Of course, such beings were few and far between, and did not exist in this universe. He had been inspired to empower them, after an encounter with one.

The being was a Fallen Angel. One who had survived the Rhana Dandra, the sundering of the angelic host of the Presence. A being whose presence had witnessed the first rains fall on countless worlds, who had shepherded the first sentient beings and souls through the dance of evolution. Its name was Semaroth, in ages past among the greatest of the Grigori.

_With the greatest respect Lord Imperial, I phrase this succinctly, but you know my question. Of what use to you is the one called Trigon of the Scathkin, Last of the Kindred?_

"He has his uses," Lord Imperial Derman Ugorj said, in a voice as smooth as oil on silk, with a timbre deep as the ocean. It was a charismatic voice that inspired those it addressed and intimidated those whom dared oppose it.

Slowly, before the view of the being in question, the Triumvir of Hell had appeared before the Lord Imperial. Bowing on his dais, the Lords of Hell, Astaroth, Beelzebub, and the greatest of all himself, known by so many names, the Fallen Angel who had battled Saint Michael himself at Heavens' Gate and lost, Lucifer Morningstar, Shaitan, the Djinn who opposed the Divine Will, prostrated themselves before the Lord Imperial.

In the centre, the disgraced Demon Lord Trigon himself stood, chained yet unbowed, standing with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Look at me," boomed the voice of the Lord Imperial.

He looked, before turning his eyes in fear at the raw power that emanated from him. As far beyond Trigon was Lucifer, so was he to this being. A mote in the eye of a terrible storm, he was an insect to this god.

His servitude to him was unquestioned. Trigon now had a master.

**WWW**

**"_That was foolish_****_, Jorgumander. Such an open display of power, to grind them under your heel, invites even more powerful forces. Paradigms will change, and alliances will shift. Chaos will blight the universe."_**

_I do as I please. No entity can stop me. Besides, Ahriman, did I not remove the memory of my existence and actions from their consciousness?_

**"_Need I remind you of Halgur, of Crimson Caine, your younger kindred? Need I remind you of the Ulthaj that is yet to be? Need I remind you of the Janthril Grand Matriarch? The Grand Matriarch alone wields the power of an Imperial Ulthaj, far beyond even the Presence, the shard of Khallusk that is the Source, that which made this multiverse."_**

_You are Cha'Gukal. You have fought the Ulthaj even before the Omniverse was born. I have faith in your guidance. Did you not oppose them before?_

**"_And I lost. My kindred lost. We are the antithesis of such beings, their _****_opposite which was born in ages long past and times distant beyond your memory. I may not have your power, but I have the wisdom of ages, that which no young fool like you can match. I know fear. I fled from the Janthril Warmaster as he wielded Rukt, and Rukt itself can consume you, as it nearly devoured me. I know what I am. I am purpose and power unto myself; and whether I escape and forge a transcendent godhood beyond myself is up to me. This is an alliance of necessity. It is mutual aid and hatred of a common foe that bind us. The Three. The Triumvir of Khagat."_**

_I do not fear Rukt. As it is, we have our honoured general, Gurenon himself. _

**"_Then you are a fool. Only a fool would not fear Rukt and its master. Rukt means doom and extinction, nullity and unreality, non-existence in a void beyond measure for any being caught in its grasp. The Punishment of the Karas'thy Raksa. The Terror of the Imperial Ulthaj."_**

**_+I fought Aziz. Let us say his name, for it is only one of many. I am Gurenon, Celestial of the Black Tiger Society, former General in service to the great Rugal Al'Ilham, former emissary and herald of Khallusk himself, Elder God and Source of the Human Paradigms in the Omniverse. I hunger for conflict. I am the most powerful of us; I am the one who will defeat him, Karas'thy Raksa or none.+_**

**The conversation ran into silence, as the three communicated, plans forming and coalescing into being.**

**WWW**

At some point, Starfire tried to stop making sense of the entire story. Aziz was telling them exactly what he wanted them to hear and what they needed to know, nothing more and nothing less. Robin had tried slipping in several questions, but had them turned against him every time. He acknowledged them, apologised for evading them, and proceeded to do so.

"_At least he was honest about it,"_ she thought to herself, resting her chin in her hand.

The facts that she did know were this; he was old, had been in this universe for at least a decade, was a decidedly deceptive individual who could be trusted, rather ironically, and he had a mystical origin. The last, she had concluded herself.

Now it was a matter of trusting what could be a wildcard. They were playing a poker game, and she was facing a player with the perfect poker face; inscrutable and seemingly indifferent as to the outcome. After all, it is what seems that matters more than what is.

He had shown himself loyal enough, cracked jokes just enough to fit in, but he was still in the process of joining them. For what purpose, she didn't know.

The words seemed to flow almost endlessly, saying nothing by speaking lots. Aziz could have been a premier politician had he chosen to be so, and Starfire found her attention wandering.

Almost inevitably, it wandered to Robin. She always thought it was impossible to love someone more than she did, and yet with each passing day Starfire found herself significantly more attached to him.

Her attention wandered further astray from conscious thought, finding the memories floating midway between her waking mind and the subconscious. They were always there, and, though they were of course not quite as good as the real thing, they were close enough for now.

The realms of what was truly Starfire's subconscious spotted her on its borders, and extended its influence unto her. Quite willingly, she accepted the dream, allowing it to flicker across the eye of her mind. But, of course, it wasn't a real dream; mitigated by rational thought, it was much more comforting than the surreal landscape any proper sleep-bound dream will present.

In society, certain rules forever govern those within it. Some people break them, but Starfire had been rigorously trained in such matters of etiquette, and so the choice to willingly break the rules was as much hers as it is to a computer program.

But in here… in the privacy of her own mind, things were decidedly different. Here, anything was possible.

A faint smile shaped Starfire's lips as she lost herself in places where only she and Robin existed, free to do as she wanted.

And then, in that annoying way it has of doing, reality came knocking, and the knock sounded terribly like 'Raven'.

**WWW**

He could see it in their faces. The distrust and suspicion that he had seen in the beginning was returning. He could not fault them. They had good reason, given their acceptance of him into their home, their suspicions about the Rukt, and Gar foolishly toying around with it. Very well then; perhaps some of it could be revealed, at least for his continued tenure in the team.

"I am here because there is an agenda regarding Raven among certain forces in the universe. I am an agent of those forces."

**_I _****_am_****_ one of those forces._**

"And what exactly do I have to do with it?" Raven voiced out, eager to at last finally get an answer that had been plaguing her for so long.

"Everything. Part of the plan is reliant on your genetics, and is in part a plan of eugenics. It involved your potential children Raven, and the hope that you and Dick procreate to produce those desired children, as a first step in a millennia long plan. It involves the human species as a whole, because of who you are. You're a demigod, a goddess in the flesh, whether you like it or not. Because of who your father is, because of the events that have happened. There is a hidden cabal that has plans for humanity. They wish to guide humanity to something better than it is now."

At the mention of his name, Robin looked at Raven, who looked back at him. A pale flush had entered both their faces at the mention of procreation between them. It was a veiled comment on the tension that had existed between them, controlled only by Ravens' better judgement and Robins' loyalty to and love for Starfire early on. But nonetheless, it _had_ existed. The fact that they were close friends made it even worse. Of course, that was in the past, as far as both were concerned.

Starfire was shocked at the mere thought of this, and cast a questioning glance at Robin. In it was both righteous indignation and pleading, and, knowing Starfire as only he could, Robin replied with a shaking of the head so slight that she only just saw it. Raven, feeling that it was expected of her, repeated the gesture more emphatically as Starfire's eyes rested on her. Still, even with this, the answer Starfire had wanted, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions; anger, fear, hate and of course desire all had their share. Finally she looked to Aziz, intending to ask the meaning of what he had said insofar as is impacted her, but he wasn't looking back. As ever, his features were perfectly inscrutable.

"You are to be the literal 'Eve' of an entire lineage, the Raven Queen, and Robin was planned as your 'Adam'. That is only a small part of it. As for the person that attacked us, well, he is a family relation of mine. He was here to warn me."

_When the Wolf King carries Rukt,  
thus are the final days of this age sewn.  
When the Raven Queen ascends her throne,  
the fate of the King of Nights will be known._

_He made the prophecy come true. Sorentho did what he had to do._

"Warn you of what?" This time Cyborg spoke out, eager to understand and know more. It seemed that this Titan had loyalties that lay outside his team.

"My employer, as you may put it, has decided to enact several countermeasures against me, since I appear to have gone rogue. They seem to think I have defected over to your side, so to speak, and am serving my own purpose."

_Now the lies begin. I have always served Rugal, always served the Greater Good in my capacities. Now it's time to perform one final task; the one that will kill me. I'm sorry, Raven. I'm sorry I have to start lying to you now, but this is necessary for you to trust me. Isn't that ironic? You have an emotional bond to me, yet I always conceal myself. I want to reach out to you, scared to confess what I'm feeling and dreaming, frightened you'll slip away…_

_I'm winning your trust with lies, with dishonesty, all an orchestration. Yet the one thing that I hate about this…is that I'm falling for you. I'm a dead man walking, so scared to hurt others, so eager for love, a beast who's killed countless people whether mortal or not, and I'm falling for you. I know that if I die, the people around me will suffer, and I'm worried for them. I've lived my death, I've seen my death. I'm not scared by it. I'm worried for you. I'm becoming friends with Starfire, with Gar, with Victor. I have my daughter, my brothers and friends. And if I'm ever going to be truly free, I have to walk that path and die…_

Just then, the infant they'd rescued began to cry. Given the name of Djimon by Az, today was the day he was supposed to transfer him over to the authorities. A young, single working woman had decided to adopt it, by the name of Alice Haggerty, and Robin had done a cursory background check, resulting in the rather surprising finding that she was the personal assistant of the CEO of Onraed Chartered Industries, Sophia Mendes, a behemoth with a net worth of two and a half trillion, easily larger than the entirety of Lexcorp, Wayne Enterprises and Microsoft combined.

Everything had checked out, though Robin was surprised that the request had been so easily processed. Truth be told, he was sad to see the little one go. He'd grown on them, Raven and Starfire especially, bringing out a maternal side of Starfire he hadn't seen before. She'd flown around with him, twirling and spiraling in the air with him in her arms, him laughing in joy. Of course, it was hard work, trying to care for the infant while performing all the tasks required of them as a superhero team.

He was a quiet infant, but when he was upset, he was loud. It seemed that only the likes of Beast Boy, with his menagerie of animal forms, and Aziz, with a quiet aura of serenity that somehow slipped stealthily into existence, or Raven, with her empathic rapport with the child, could quiet him, though Aziz seemed to be the most effective and seemed like an old hand with Djimon. If anything, Gar and Az were alike in that they seemed to have a rapport with children.

Starfire flew off to attend to the matter, her mind still filled with what had been said, while Az sat there, poker face unreadable, yet he opened up the emotional bond to Raven, letting her know that something was indeed wrong through his feelings, that he was troubled.

Raven felt the frustration, the anger in him, the stress and fatigue that the combat with the strange person had caused him. Given the amount of mental and emotional fatigue she felt coursing through him, she was surprised that he hadn't sought rest. And though he hadn't expressed it, she felt his anger at the team, at the mistrust against him, and she understood.

**WWW**

"_Don't worry about it. It won't come back to trouble you. Just leave it to me. As for your current mistrust and suspicion, I will say this directly to you. I can be trusted, and it's only my origins that form this suspicion. When Raven was in trouble, what did I do? It's about damn time you started to trust me. Everything I have done, it is to earn your trust. What will it take?"_

Those were the words he wanted to say. He didn't. It had never been his style to be angry. Emotions when directed properly were a powerful motivator, but they were a terrible weakness as well.

When he'd been in the military, starting out as a young corporal first class at 19 after entering the mainstream military from the Royal Malayan Union Armed Forces School of Non-Commissioned Officers, RMUAFSNCO, he'd never scolded his men outright, except for a few instances when they'd deserved it.

Scolding a group or a single person in front of a group out loud caused bad blood to persist, humiliated people unnecessarily and just made them perform badly. Better to reprimand in private. It had never been his style. He'd seen far too many of his colleagues go the usual route and try to imitate the Americans with their crude style, acting like a DI from Full Metal Jacket. He _hated_ that movie's portrayal of drill instructors. He had been one himself. He far preferred the traditional ways, the old British, Indian and Gurkha military traditions he'd been exposed to.

He would tell Raven. She trusted him. He had no choice but to trust her, however much he hated this. It was simply a matter of faith.

**WWW**

Before he left, Sorentho went to observe the Raven Queen. He stealthily followed her, following her every move. She was a graceful beauty, alabaster-skinned with a dusky complexion, an exquisite mix of twilight and dusk, lavender eyes set in a firm face with high cheekbones. She had some descent from the Royal Families of Old Europe, intermarried with descent from Sephardic Jews of Spain. Hence the surname of her mother- Roth, shortened from Rothstein.

**"_Raven."_**

She heard him in her mind, turned around and screamed in shock. He'd been trailing behind her as she'd gone about her business, partially intangible and looking like a ghost. Her scream drew the quick flash of Az, whose head slipped from behind the wall to take in what was happening.

After an assessing glance and a sharp look at his son that could have blasted battleplate, he went on with his business, fixing a leakage in the air conditioning system, a minor fault caused by Gar trying to place tofu-scented oils into the ventilation system. It had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams and driven him to the edge of death, as Robin and Cyborg had both attempted to murder him when the smell persisted in their rooms.

"What do you want?"

"_May we talk, Lady Raven? I know things that I think you should too.This is all telepathic, you know. You do not need to voice your thoughts out loud."_

"I don't appreciate people in my head," she replied, a chill in her voice.

"Very well then Raven. May I enter your room and converse? It's important."

"You may."

As he entered and the door sealed shut behind him, he noticed a variety of magical charms, a mirror included, lying down on the shelf. The Mirror of Emotions.

"When the Wolf King carries Rukt,  
thus are the final days of this age sewn.  
When the Raven Queen ascends her throne  
the fate of the King of Nights will be known."

"What should that mean to me?"

"Who carries a blade called Rukt in this team? Obvious, isn't it?"

"Aziz…."

"And I'm sure you know who the Raven Queen is. There are many things in the balance Raven. You're at the centre of overlapping spheres of great powers, of great agendas. But you're instrumental in another, greater agenda, to awaken a power that has long been dormant, and to enact plans that will spread over generations, over millennia, that will continue long after any of your friends are dead."

"Why? What have I done that causes this?"

"You are Raven. That is all that needs to be said. As for the animal whose name you take? It's associated with darkness and death, a harbinger of doom. Yet, people never realize how tender they can be with their own mates and their young; beautiful creatures of dark plumage serving their own role in the cycle of nature. You have a purpose, and you must accept it."

"What is my purpose? Why are the answers leading to more questions?" she asked him in quiet desperation. He could hear an edge of panic in her voice, the slight loss of control as her lips quivered. She felt fear.

"That, you have to answer for yourself. As for me, I am Sorentho, son of the Wolf King."

Without a further word, he vanished, his task done. Things would proceed as intended.

But first, he had to have a final talk with his father. Possibly the last talk he would ever have with him.

**WWW**

Robin sat back. So many questions to answer, yet they had to wait. It had already been a few hours since the visitation by their mysterious guest, and was already mid afternoon. In a few more hours, it would be nightfall, and they would have to face the daunting task of apprehending the Joker. The faster they resolved _that_, the faster the overall strategic balance of the city would restore itself.

A supervillain of the Jokers' caliber entering the city of 8 million had greatly destabilized the distribution of crime, as well as the presence of Joculare, who had depopulated a full third of the segment of the criminal population involved in the illegal narcotics trade in Jump, if the statistics from the DEA were correct.

As it was, many officials in the DEA were unofficially gladdened by the decrease, as Jump City was a major conduit for the flow of narcotics into Gotham, the oldest and richest city on the Western Seaboard.

That the flow had reduced, in no small part to the dismantling of the organized crime syndicates by the Black Tiger and whomever his associates were, as well as the fact that several extrajudicial killings and assassinations of crime bosses in Colombia, Haiti, Brazil, Hong Kong and Russia had taken place in the past year, leaving a vacuum that no one seemed to want to fill.

The Falcone Family, among the top crime families nationwide and resident to Gotham, was beginning to take an interest in the entire situation, and rumors were circulating of mysterious assassins codenamed 'Black Dragons', as well as the now-infamous Jaras, a lethal rival to Lady Shiva for the title of the deadliest assassin in the world.

However, the only reference to Black Dragons that Robin had come across were the Singapore and Kabul-based battalions of Mendes Defence Decisions, consisting of several superhumanly powerful private soldiers, and they were thoroughly vetted by several accredited agencies, among them the Mossad, MI5, CIA, FSB, the Defence Ministries of several countries, Japan, Sweden, Holland, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Australia and India.

Even internal Pentagon reports had cited the amazing effectiveness of the Black Dragon Marines in pacifying parts of Afghanistan that had been ravaged by gangs of bandits. What had once been bandit-ridden districts were now slowly being revitalized, with little of the taint once associated with them.

Their deployment to areas bordering the mountainous frontier province of Waziristan in North-West Pakistan had resulted in a tremendous drop of Taliban activity in areas within their sphere of operations. However, NATO commanders on the ground had often cited possible human rights abuses on their part.

This of course had been silenced with the realisation that the more effective the Black Dragon Marines were, the less trouble the NATO troops in Afghanistan faced from bandits or Taliban fighters.

The fact that Taliban commanders and their entire families were often slaughtered, women and children as well, with their remains burnt, in violation of Islamic custom, and force-fed to captured Taliban fighters who often went insane from being interrogated by the Black Dragon Marines, was glossed over and not reported in the Western media.

In the coming war, it would be very hard to tell the side of the angels from that of the demons.

Not that this was any of Robins' concern, or within his scope of knowledge. He only had to worry about the regional effects of such actions taking place worldwide, confined to Jump City as such.

**WWW**

"Is this how it will be, father?"

Aziz remained silent, finally unsure how to address, how to react, as his son stood before him. Born when he had been another person, in another lifetime, here stood his flesh and blood.

"Yes, Sorentho."

"The four marks of Innocence, Truth, Mercy and Regret. They cover your back in four diagonal slashes, bleeding. You know their purpose, as well as do I. Father, this path you take, the choices you make, it will kill you. I know that. You know that. Why do you persist in this?"

"Sorentho…when you were born, I was vastly different, more powerful and ruthless than I am now, before I began to diminish myself. I was born a mortal and ascended to what I was. You know the origins of the Ulthaj, of how they as beings destroyed entire universes in the search for power and godhood, until they transcended it and met their antithesis. Only when they had achieved the same level of omnipotence and enlightenment as the Prime Creator did they truly understand the fate they had wrought upon the Creation That Was. My memories stretched back to a time before the Omniverse as we know it was made. Even then, I was but a mortal. In memory, my mind goes ever back, to the beginning. Being the literal 'old soul' I am, I am burdened with this _power_. I have been struggling with it for a trillion years in this incarnation, something I am not worthy to have, a legacy you inherited…"

"A legacy started with ignorance but ending with nobility and sacrifice, that ended when the Great Devourer was imprisoned in Uzakiels' Stone, but when all Creation was fractured beyond repair, the entities throughout it were brought to ruin. You did things no being should do to ensure the safety of trillions. You murdered millions to save quadrillions, extinguished star systems so that galaxies may live. Even as a mortal, what you did was always to serve and protect others, to prevent others from suffering. Why can't you see that father? Why can't you see what I see in you? You are not a monster. I should know. I have your memories."

Aziz was silent for a minute, before switching topics entirely. His son knew his reasons. Four of them, all marked on his back, carved into his flesh spontaneously, as he had willed it in the final moments of the fight with Sorentho.

"Sorentho… what they plan to do to the Raven Queen will push her beyond anything; will burden her with responsibility that no one should have. No being should ever have to go through what I have. To lose one's own self in rage and slaughter, in violence and carnality… I would not wish this upon anyone. What I do, I do to save these people; this world now from something beyond them. They are too limited now, not mature enough in the ways of the universe, an impartial universe to all. The path I take can either kill me, finally give me the peace I seek, or it will fulfill the agenda that Shath'Hal had planned all along. After all, this is my problem, my burden. The Four Marks, each will heal the closer I am to that moment, when Raven leaves this world for another, when she escaped it, and when I die. She will have greatness thrust upon her, and she must be ready for it. All the people in my life will have to prepare for it."

Sorentho gave a grim smile, before continuing: "You're falling for her father. I can see it, and soon enough, even the mortals will begin to sense it. This is the last time I will see you then, in this place. You walk your path, and you will take part of her burden from her. Innocence, truth, mercy and regret- you will face them, and you will triumph. As for Rayaan, he sends his regards and says that time is approaching a nexus. He has blocked all time travel into this era, forcing linearity on it. This universe as of now has deterministic rules of causality imposed on it."

_Go talk to her father. Her future holds much pain, as it does for the Winged Avenger of the Night, though he goes by the name Robin._

_+I know. I have seen it.+_

**_Goodbye, father…_**

**WWW**

The team was unusually quiet, as they assembled, preparing their equipment for the night. Raven and the Black Tiger would be deployed together as usual, headed to one location in the Eastern suburbs to investigate a possible trace. Cyborg and Beast Boy were tasked with heading into the Vietnamese Quarter, though few supervillains dared enter for fear of upsetting the triads. Even Robin was wary of the Asian crime syndicates posing the greatest problem to Batman, more than anything because of their unity and the loyalty of the community to them.

The infant Djimon had already been handed over, and besides the events of the day, that had contributed to the overall somber mood.

Starfire and Robin were teamed together with Batman, meeting up at the Wayne Towers in the Business District and from there proceeding to Pier 41, a disused base of Slade. Where Robin had first become his apprentice…

For obvious reasons, Robin was not fond of the location.

Without the usual amiable chatter, they loaded into their vehicles and headed into the cool night.

**WWW**

As the jetbike throttled through the air at high speeds, the wind screaming as it whipped over the two, Raven remained silent, monitoring their communication status with the other two teams.

Neither she nor the Black Tiger had spoken a word since they had embarked on the mission, though not for lack of trying. There was simply too much to say. There would be time, but for now, she would trust in her instincts, and her instincts told her to trust him. Again, it was another of her irrational feelings, despite all the questions being raised about him.

They hovered over the building, a decrepit old hospital that had been gutted by a fire over 5 years ago. She reached out with her empathy; feeling for the twisted emotions that she knew must be the defining quality of an insane man like the Joker. The Black Tiger scanned with eyes and sensors, radar pulses penetrating the concrete to reveal nothing. However, isotopes of the rare elements that composed Joker venom were present, indicating he had been here.

However, it was suspicious, seeming as if it had been planted there. There were no defining marks one would normally associate with the Joker, such as distorted smiley faces or crude portraits drawn into the wall by Harley.

"No sign of the Joker here, Robin. All clear on the Eastern district. We'll circle back and meet you at the dock. We'll drop by the Vietnamese Quarter, just to check in on the guys."

With a click and the acknowledgement sign of a green light, they left the area. Unknown to them, an observer most familiar with them began to follow, as he flitted from shadow to shadow, Bamapana running through his system…

**WWW**

Cyborg breathed a sigh of relief, glad to leave the Vietnamese Quarter, BB silent and thoughtful. Much to their surprise, the place they had investigated had turned out to be an illegal gambling den, with numerous enforcers and guards. Cyborg had taken the route of shock and awe, entering by blasting a hole through the ceiling and dropping into the middle of a mob of gun-wielding gangsters. Robin would of course have had his head for this, but thankfully he was not present.

This had resulted in a chase, the gang lead by an ex-Viet Cong boss, where Beast Boy and Cyborg had been trapped in an alley, with Cyborg about to blast his way through, when Raven and the Black Tiger had showed up. The change that had come over the gang at the appearance of the Black Tiger had been one of fear and awe. His reputation preceded him. With a single look, he locked his eyes onto the leader and they stopped in their tracks, starting to turn and run.

The reason they feared him was simple. If they committed a crime, he targeted their families. Many of the gang leaders had been presented with photos taken of their sleeping children and pregnant wives, their old fathers and bedridden mothers, their siblings, cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces, various relations and friends.

Simple photos, nothing suspicious about it, simply photos of them sleeping. But it indicated one thing; he knew where they lived, where their families went, their eating habits, their routines, where they took their pets for walks, how they went to school. They had the lists and schedules presented to them, personal artifacts stolen from their homes and found in their offices. A very clear underlying message-I know your weaknesses, I know where you live, I know where your family goes, I know your schedule, and I know your crimes.

Not that they were ever in any harm; Aziz simply used fear as a weapon, because he dealt with human beings, with basic human drives and motivations. Those were easy enough to manipulate with the right leverage. He was just better at it than the gangsters themselves.

The situation his arrival precipitated lasted all of a few seconds. Suddenly, chaos had erupted as the ground violently quaked around them, upheaving and lifting the gangsters into the air, throwing them against the wall, the elemental fury of the earth itself roiling over them. Cyborg had taken the opportunity to escape while the Tiger and Raven had left on his jetbike. Amidst the chaos, BB thought he saw a blonde girl, eyes blue as the cloudless day-time sky, looking straight at him, before being swallowed up by the earth.

_She was back._

Her appearance had been brief but significant. Her costume had changed significantly. Instead of her shorts, she was wearing low-cut jeans now, a thong visible as it rode up her hips, with a padded shirt. He'd locked eyes with her in the few seconds she'd been there, and the line between them had sparked as never before.

Starfire had once chatted with him about human women, and the concepts, of twin flames and soulmates, about red string soul mates, how it was a belief that a metaphysical red string bound two partners for life. She had found such concepts rather appealing, and in her own way, was very much like any teenaged human girl, vivacious and full of life.

In that instant he had locked eyes with her, he'd felt that connection. When they'd made love, gazing into each others' eyes, it was like staring into a hall of mirrors, the effect only reflected back a hundredfold. The fact that she had betrayed him had hurt him at a level that few ever got to see. The wound had healed, but seeing her had brought numbness to his heart. After so long, even after her denial, he still wanted her back.

As the T-Mobile throttled towards Pier 41, he finally let out a long sigh, a premonition building in him that something he had lost long ago was about to return. What effect it would have on him now, that he was dating other girls, he was unsure of.

He had dated Argent for a while, an Italian-New Zealander and reputed by herself and those who knew her as being an all-round 'hot chick', although Beast Boy was instinctually suspicious of anyone who bragged like this. Beast Boy was a skilled bragger himself, so he knew the system.

It had worked reasonably well, and Beast Boy functioned as a friend to Argent, but no more than that. He brought a guarded caution to the relationship; the ghost of Terra's influence still lingered within him.

She was independent and free-spirited, and hadn't dealt well with some of his need for emotional closeness and intimacy. Still, they remained close friends, and she'd already made him a promise that he would be her children's godfather. He felt it was for the best, being better than carrying on the charade of being together without any real commitment by either side.

Beast Boy wondered how Starfire was taking to the news that Az had revealed to them, of a eugenics plan by shadowy players that seemed to focus on Raven and, more importantly for Starfire, Robin. To what extent Az could be trusted now had come into question, and Beast Boy found it extremely difficult to forgive, let alone forget. Beast Boy did not claim to be an oracle of any kind, but one future he could tell was Aziz's should he attempt to betray them. Suffice it to say it would be painful.

**WWW**

Tara Markov, or Terra, as he preferred to be called, felt almost happy. She'd seen _him_ again. She'd kept up with the changes in the roster of the Titans, and had found the slot once filled by her taken by the latest vigilante in town. The Black Tiger, a person not to cross and the wrong sort of person to recruit in her opinion. She owed the Titans more than they knew, for them never having betrayed her, letting her be known as the hero she never viewed herself as.

Her experiences with him were limited, as only recently had she started making a foray into the hero work again, slowly picking up where she'd once left off. Street-level crime directed by the syndicates had left off greatly, with a surge of several hundred million being invested in poorer neighborhoods by foreign investors.

That and the sudden disappearance of Slade from the USA had aided greatly in boosting her confidence.

To see him again, even from a distance, had been a happy accident, a piece of serendipity. She'd simply heard the gunfire, given that she lived on the edge of the Vietnamese Quarter, and had come to investigate. What she had seen was Cyborg and Beast Boy cornered and under attack, before the cavalry had arrived in the form of a jetbike and Raven.

She noted how he'd grown taller, looking more confident and serious. His fangs had grown sharper too. She unconsciously touched her shoulder, where said fangs had grazed her in a bout of passion when they'd been showering together. As the memory passed, a blush crept into her face.

Of all the Titans, she was uneasy with Raven. Raven, even restraining herself, could have killed her, and she had seen straight through her, always suspicious. That and the fact that she had been competition for Gar, as Terra had seen it then, had made their relationship antagonistic.

Of course, she had later known it was simply a close sibling relationship, though that didn't change the fact that she'd been jealous as hell, casting dark looks at Raven whenever she talked to Gar.

Slowly, a step at a time, she would change her life. She had changed, more secure and confident of herself as a person. She'd fought her inner demons, and had survived. She was Terra Markov, and she would win. She was a Markov, born of royal blood, and nothing was beyond her.

Thinking about Beast Boy and the times they'd shared, a smile formed on her lips. Tonight had been a good night after all. Sitting down, she called her girlfriends over for popcorn and a movie. Maybe that cheesy one in which the Titans had made a cameo, with BB and Robin made to strip. She'd certainly enjoy that scene.

Terra felt somewhat regretful that she hadn't attempted to talk with Garfield, but if she knew him then he would come to her. If Beast Boy was anything, he was tenacious. She smiled again, remembering what he had once said to her.

"_I am not lazy. I just work very hard at doing nothing, that's all."_

**WWW**

A single man observed her via a telescope. If one had spoken to him they would have found a thick Markovian accent, a small country in the Balkans, on the Mediterranean coast, and a base for NATO forces to launch into North Africa and the Middle East should it be required. It was also a country known for its hot springs, almost rivaling those of Japan in number.

His assignment was simple. Monitor she who was the rumored half-sister of the Crown Prince of Markovia, Brion Markov I, and report back to his sovereign how his sister fared.

He was proud to do his duty, and relished that chance to serve his sovereign. After Deathstroke had made mention of the girl, hired by the Markovian authorities to assassinate some secessionists who had planned to strike the vital oil refineries that were a pillar of the economy.

The prince had been eager to find his sister, illegitimate child of his father from an affair with an American woman who had quietly left the country upon his insistence, eager to protect the child and his mistress from scandal. Having lost contact with her, the woman was killed under mysterious circumstances, rumored to be the assassinated by agents loyal to one of his generals, who'd viewed it as a disgrace and killed them to protect his king, unaware that his king had ordered their exile to the USA. That general was now the Chief of Internal Security, a trusted aide of the Crown Prince, who was to take his fathers' throne the instance he died.

All the Markovians knew the story, though it was an 'official secret', although for good or bad what happens in offices very often has no bearing on reality. Scandalous at the time, it was now common knowledge among the people, and had reached the level of a Greek tragedy. Most of the populace expected that it may one day become a fairy tale of some kind, passed down betwixt generations as oral tradition.

As she began to undress, the man respectfully lowered his binoculars, having taken enough pictures to confirm her identity. Tomorrow, he would fly back to Markovia and transmit the pictures to his superiors. He was sure of it. Their Princess of Hearts had been found

**WWW**

They assembled around Batman, letting the veteran hero organize them. Batman had a simple, tested approach when it came to confronting an enemy.

First you analyzed, then organized, then mobilized. The first wave consisted of Raven, who would enter with Starfire and the Black Tiger, performing recon and acting as the first wave.

Although most recon forces in popular fiction are often depicted as being combatively weak to balance out their excellent perceptive skills, this was an almost ridiculous reversion of the idea. Then, Batman would follow with Beast Boy, Robin and Cyborg, mostly just to add to the numbers. Still, numbers should never be underestimated. After all, just two numbers were responsible for everything technological required for people to read fan fiction about the Titans on computers.

With the knowledge of Aziz's diminished abilities, that he could briefly speed up in bursts to be as fast as a cheetah (which, despite urban myth, has no great endurance either), as well as possessing reflexes and reaction time 10 times faster than the human norm, and that he lacked the superhuman attributes formerly granted to him by his chi manipulation, had greatly hampered Robin's tactical options. He was not as much a powerhouse as before, but still capable enough to provide a threat.

Raven had her telekinesis and phasing ability, letting her create portals through solid matter into the spaces within, while Starfire had her raw Tamaranian strength and starbolts, more that sufficient to counter most of the threats they faced in the field. Although of course this was but a cursory introduction to their powers, one must remember that all power comes at a cost, and the Titans preferred to keep this venture on a budget if at all possible.

Given the high concentration of the isotopes in this area in particular, it would seem to be that this was the headquarters. It helped that garish graffiti, written in the Joker's trademark style with the same type of paint as he used in Gotham, proclaimed his presence here, arrows pointing towards the 'secret' entrance. The Joker did not apparently believe that discretion was the better part, or even a significant segment, of valour

Naturally, they would take the rear entry position. As Beast Boy had provocatively put it, they would 'penetrate it in a single thrust, battering down the seal within, surging forth with great ferocity to claim it, violating the sanctity of crime in a womb of insanity'. Nobody had known what to say after that comment. To his credit, Cyborg had maintained a straight face, although anyone who had asked him later would have found that this had only been maintained through temporarily letting his mechanical side handle things.

Beast Boy had afterwards pleaded temporary insanity as a result of Terra's sudden reappearance.

**WWW**

Robin cursed frequently as he gingerly navigated his way through the mazes of the sewer pipes leading to the bunker beneath Pier 41. If he ever came to meet the creator of this particular universe, Robin was going to have harsh words with him about why the hell villains had to have such decrepit hideouts.

At least they could have spent money on renting a proper hideout, or using a suburban house as a front. Instead, they chose to hide their bases in the darkest places one could imagine. It was either sewers, caves, mountains, beneath the sea or desert, and almost always, one could sneak in due to substandard security.

Robin had neglected a single and very important fact; the greatest of villains _did_ live in opulence. They are sometimes known collectively as 'governments'.

He noticed some old scratches he had made in the wall on an initial recon over a year ago. Which reminded him; soon he would turn 17. Within a few years, they would no longer be the Teen Titans. Though perhaps the only people who had a limited time was Cyborg, who was about to turn 19, and Aziz, whose true age was a mystery, but whom they otherwise knew for sure was older than any of them, and perhaps even older than Batman.

Robin amused himself briefly by considering what the Teen Titans might change their name to once the description became no longer valid, when he heard the cackling laughter of the Joker and the sound of gunfire echo in the tunnels. The Black Tiger had found the Joker.

**WWW**

Aziz breathed slowly, dodging a blow from a Jokerz henchman. With a quick kick to the knee pit, he snapped the henchman's knee, kicking with enough force to tear the ligaments and fracture the kneecap. The man went down with a scream. His injury would affect him for the rest of his life. Aziz almost felt sorry for the man. Note the second word in that sentence.

Evading a blow, he swung under another, locking his arm and in the process dislocating his shoulder, before firing his pistol point blank at the solar plexus, a rear kick disabling another as it connected with his temple.

Starfire went to work with her starbolts, the concussion and heat from an individual starbolt more than the concrete walls could handle as pillars collapsed, Harley spiraling in acrobatic somersaults, deftly avoiding them. Starfire had of course trained with target practice courses, but one thing the designers of these courses often forget is that your intended target/enemy possibly may not just be a circle with a crosshair on it.

Raven deflected a stream of acid from herself, the spray of it hitting a henchman in the eye and permanently blinding him. Such was the cost when one affiliated with the Joker, as the hunters became the hunted (and terminally acid-burned).

The Joker's arsenal consisted extensively of acids and poisonous gases, chief among them Joker venom. A lethal toxin in any form, it had powerful hallucinogenic properties, able to drive people insane, causing the muscles in their face to tense up in rictus laughter, a permanent smile etched on their features, causing convulsions in their diaphragm as they laughed uncontrollably, eventually leading to tears in the abdominal muscle, lungs and diaphragm due to the physical exertion of the laughter.

Just then, a powerful hammer blow resounded as Harley pressed a button, activating several of Deathstroke's disused robot commandos. The sight of them with smiley faces painted on and ballet gowns was almost funny. Sadly the reality of innumerable people trying to kill the Titans put quite a damper on things.

They zoomed in on the closest targets, which happened to be Raven and Starfire. With a blur of motion, they suddenly found an additional target placed between them and the girls.

Raven sent a telekinetic spear slamming through a pillar, trying to draw the Joker from cover. She knew exactly who was covering her back and had no doubts about him. It was routine now, in that no matter where he was, as soon as a major threat seemed to present itself to her, he intervened to make sure it was no longer a threat, at least after destroying or injuring any other threat around him. Methodical, efficient, brutal and fast was his style.

**WWW**

As a parting present, Deathstroke had placed several scenarios in the programming of the robots. He knew that given time, they would have found the hideout of the Joker, as he had planted a trail leading them to him. Hence the isotopes planted around the city.

One such procedure was to activate a self-destruct code when faced with certain members of the Titans, maneuvering the Titan such that they would be able to self-destruct and at the least injure the Titan. That scenario had been activated.

Gathering around their target, they fired at point blank range, often firing into their own kind, as they were thrown around, used as shields, struck with hardened body parts that could resist blows powerful enough to break bone, and punch through 3 inches of steel. However, Aziz was at a disadvantage. Fatigued emotionally and mentally, his alertness slipped, and strikes he would have evaded before were all too often hitting their mark.

Before they knew it, a net suddenly scooped the robot mob and their intended victim together, dumping them into a vat of acid, prepared especially for the occasion. Before he knew it, the Black Tiger was knee deep in industrial-grade sulfuric acid, having to fight off multiple opponents who never tired, were faster, stronger and mechanically determined to destroy themselves simply to kill him. One gets so accustomed to the normal caution with which enemies often act that even an experienced fighter can be taken off-guard by such reckless abandon.

But Aziz knew when he would die; he knew what would happen. Fate had locked him onto that path. It was oddly uplifting, knowing for a fact that you were (for the moment) immortal.

Drawing his Dragon Tooth Blades, styled after the ninjaken of the ancient ninja of Japan, iron molecules vibrating within a network of carbon nanomachines able to cut through even diamond, he gave a bloodcurdling roar that shook the chamber in volume and intensity, a cry once echoed on battlefields in past lives, retaliating against the mob.

One does of course have to ask oneself why he did not use these swords in the first instance. As a Titan, he didn't kill. However, he could injure and cripple, and the opponents he was facing now were more dangerous, requiring use of the blades. He scaled his weapons to match the threat. At least that way, one managed to hide his capabilities until the right moment. No need to brings out all the big guns every time.

After all, robots were an entirely different matter from incompetent henchmen who were at best glorified street fighters with no choice _but_ to join the Jokerz. Most rational criminals tended to avoid the gang, given the incredibly short career and lack of benefits, in spite of the ability to earn ridiculous amounts of cash.

**WWW **

Batman heard the roar and the gunfire. He had never been fond of guns.He dodged another Jokerz Cyborg had blasted through the wall. Batman watched as Cyborg and Beast Boy worked as a team, opening the way for Batman. Apparently being best friends did count for something.

The Batman represented the pinnacle of human physical prowess. His strength, stamina, speed and agility exceeded that of any Olympic level athlete that had ever competed.With reflexes borne of physical conditioning honed since the age of eleven, achieved through intense training, specialized diet, neural feedback treatments and neuro-linguistic programming, he lashed, rolling through the melee, lashing out with a kick to the groin of yet another nameless henchman, before coming face to face with the Joker.

"Long time no see Bats. Miss me?"

Batman replied as he always did… with stone faced silence.

Not letting him have a chance, he tackled the Joker, driving his shoulder hard into his abdomen and driving the air from his lungs. Joker struggled, getting his hands in a vice-like grip around Batman's neck, only to feel his wrist break as Batman pummeled it with a closed fist, slamming it hard against the gorget that protected him from such attacks.

Gripping the Jokers' hand, he twisted the wrist farther back that a human wrist could, letting bone grind against bone, as the Dark Knight slammed a palm heel into his chin and then his forehead, hitting with such force that cerebral fluid began to leak from Jokers' eyes. Cackles of laughter slowly turned into cries of pain as the brutalization continued, before he stopped.

"Funny yet, Joker?" came the soft hiss of the Dark Knight, who dropped him to the ground, bruised and broken. Slowly, the Jokerz surrendered, as they began to realize who exactly was in their midst. The Dark Knight of Gotham. A man with his own internalized capacity for evil, a dark knight who fought the good and bad fight, in service of justice and the protection of the innocent.

A nightmare made flesh.

However, the Joker was a crafty man, and it was for good reason he was _the_ nemesis of Batman. The Joker defined his existence by the Batman, and in a perverse manner, viewed him as kin. Just like him, Batman was driven by a morality and purpose that verged on zealotry, or dare he speculate, perhaps even psychosis. After all, having one's parents murdered before your eyes at a young age could create deep scars in the mind that time would only conceal, not heal.

From his unbroken right hand, he pressed a buzzer to Batman's face and let the charge loose. Several thousand volts of stunning electricity flowed into his nervous system, setting nerves on fire, axons firing and muscles spasming. With a flash, a dagger coated in Joker venom appeared in his hand.

As it flashed down, the crack of a pistol shot echoed in the room, a bullet burying itself in the arm of the Joker, boring through flesh, before the air within rapidly expanded and caused the flesh to rupture under the rapid change in hydrostatic pressure brought about by the influx of air.

Three shots rang out; three targets were hit with supreme precision. First his shoulder, then forearm, then thigh. Joker howled in pain as he crumpled to the floor, unable to stand, pain radiating through his head, arm and leg.

**WWW**

From the vat of acid, the Black Tiger arose, suit and armour steaming as the acid seeped in, dissolving electronic circuits and corroding the threads which held it together. His helmet was askew, cracked from the force of a blow.

He reloaded his pistol slowly, pointing it straight at the Joker. The next was the coup de grace. Without hesitation, he unloaded the full clip into him from a distance, the plastic rounds transferring their kinetic energy into his body.

Unconscious from the assault, he finally slumped to the ground, incapacitated. All stood in shock at the sudden end to the drama, before Robin went to Batman's aid, lifting up the veteran hero and helping him to stand.

It was done. The first actor in this theater of perverse humor had been caught, leaving only Joculare to attend to. Not that anyone there present knew it, least of all the Joker himself, but the Joker was to have the proverbial last laugh.

**WWW**

Joculare tossed the vial up and down, catching it in his palm. The Joker had planned to humiliate the Titans, with an emphasis on Robin, with the use of the chemical concoction within the vial.

Loaded with special pollen that Poison Ivy had provided, a powerful combination of pixie dust and other magical elements, it was a powerful chemical that he'd tested on in an old folks' home. The result had been thoroughly and utterly disturbing even to Joculare. He'd left the scene as fast as possible.

However, he was going to amplify the effect even more, if he could trick the latest hapless hero in town, fighting crime with certain psionic and trans-empathic abilities, into aiding his plan. If all went according to plan, it would be a humiliation the Titans would never forget.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 Intermission**

**A Mother's Hatred**

A/N: Something to tide you over till Chapter 20. Don't expect anything else from me for any story I am writing till December at least. Ah, and a warning; this one contains graphic depictions of sex… as well as a clue as to what hi-jinks our dear Titans will get up to.

**WWW**

Raven was normally perfectly at home with receiving thoughts and memories that were not entirely hers, but usually she expected them to be somewhat less… _disturbing_. Although she was unable to sense his emotions or thoughts, certain memories and dreams were coming through. The haziness that partially covered them did nothing to ease Raven's discomfort.

Ever since that incident with Sorentho he'd had his barriers lowered, and his memories and dreams had been leaking across. Raven was quite frankly horrified; detailed in these mental images was a life that made even hers look like a walk in the park. He had known what it was like not to have anything, not even the dreams that keep people going when all else seems lost. His childhood had been… well, he hadn't had one.

It also did not help one bit that she was becoming attracted to him. What girl wouldn't? He was handsome, sensual and had a raw sexuality about him, something she'd only seen once, having run into him after having used the gym. The image had stayed in her mind, and what troubled her was that she didn't want it to go away.

Given that his six closest ancestors were of Arab, Indian, Chinese, Slavic, Spanish and Zulu stock, and from a distance, depending on the state of his tan, he was able to look like any number of nationalities; he was distinguished up close by exotic looks. However, it always came back to the eyes, the figurative windows of the soul. His were an exotic grey shade now, no longer the clear grey, with slanted almond eyes indicative of the Asiatic heritage.

The thing that confused Raven most was his inability to express his feelings for her, and she knew he had them. Normally it was Raven who looked away or stayed silent. It was probably a sign of how badly she'd fallen for him that Raven was the one who had reached for his hand that night. If you'd asked her about the probability of this a few weeks ago the answer would probably have been a long stare, but now…

So where did she stand? Combined with her issues related to emotional security and sexuality, her own heritage, the revelations about Robin and her, and the various things she had learned, she was totally and utterly confused. Normally Raven would have become determined to find things out in such a situation, but she'd tried that and turned up nothing. Raven felt helpless, as though nothing was in her control any longer; not even herself.

As she turned into her room, the task of protecting the people of Jump done for the day, Joker safely in police custody, she bumped into the devil inhabiting her thoughts.

_Aziz_.

**WWW**

Robin had seen this in his dreams more times than he could count. However, dreams have that terrible knack at being so much better than reality.

Starfire held him tightly on her bed, her voracious kisses screaming desire, calling and searching for that same lust within Robin. He responded, dipping his tongue into her mouth and licking the sweetness within. She moaned softly while he gasped for air, taken by surprise at the fact that she'd had honey in her mouth.

He kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling and interlocking in a dance of sexual heat. Yet, in the back of his mind, this was something he did _not _want. Not this way. Not like this. Certainly he _wanted_ to do it, but he was scared.

It was ironic, really. Every time he'd imagined it Starfire had been the innocent and gentle one, unwilling and bashful. On reflection, considering how emotional Starfire became in other situations, he should have known better.

Just then she made a movement, sliding her body across his and cupping his head with both hands, tilting it back gently to allow her greater access. Along his side, her fingers slid up his thighs, reaching towards his arousal, heated and throbbing. At times, he was amazed that hands powerful enough to crush concrete could be so tender with him. Robin hoped desperately that she didn't forget that tenderness in the heat of passion. After all, it would only take one over-zealous squeeze…

He responded, grabbing her legs and trying to maintain a clear head, sliding his hands in a gentle and erratic path up her back. With a feather touch, he heard her breath hitch as he traced it over the curve of her rear, before he withdrew to blow into her ear, making her giggle slightly at the ticklishness. Her ears were highly sensitive and she enjoyed his attention, giggling as he made soft caressing motions of her earlobe. Which was a shame; the next breath of air into her ear wasn't exactly all that pleasurable.

"Stop…"

Starfire went rigid, shivering at first with shock, then anger. Wasn't he enjoying it? Wasn't it what he wanted?

_Or maybe she wasn't good enough for him?_

It was a distressing sight to see the normally so perky girl's eyes glowing wrathfully in the darkness, staring down at him as she sat up. In this state, no one but Robin could calm her, but unfortunately he was the current cause of her ire.

"Why?" Starfire asked, venom searing her words. "Why don't you want this? Don't you want to make love to me? Do I _disgust_ you?"

Robin was shocked at the anger, the venom directed at him. But beneath that all, he sensed the hurt, the vulnerability. _Why?_

"No!" he burst out suddenly, more out of reflex than conscious thought. "No… Star… please, no. It's nothing like-"

"_**Then what is it?"**_

Her reply, midway between a hiss and a roar, left him shaking. She stood up, hugging herself, body shivering with suppressed anger, hurt and confusion. He reached up to touch her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, body trembling. Once more, he firmly took her by the shoulder and turned her to face him, before seeing the tears running down her eyes. Her last question was a whisper.

"Why…?"

"Star, please… I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it; it's just that I'm scared. It's me, not you."

She slowly looked up to him, her face demanding an explanation _now_. She could forgive him, as long as he had a reason. Isn't love about forgiveness?

Dick slowly breathed in, as he tried to prepare himself to explain to her why he was so damn scared, unprepared to lose himself, to lose control as he had once before….

**WWW**

_Barbara and Dick slowly moved together in the tangled sheets, as she thrust back against him in counter-rhythm to his own thrusts, his strokes entering her and withdrawing, the audible sound of their bodies, slick with sweat, and their hips, smooth with sexual fluids, collided together in an animalistic sexual union. It was not lovemaking, nothing even of sex for pleasure. It was not even animalistic 'fucking' or passion. It was simply pure, unadulterated sexual hunger, their bodies pushed to their limits._

_He turned her over, kissing and nibbling at her neck, while she screamed hard, muffling it by biting down on his shoulder until it bled. Her fingers had clawed at his back, leaving bloody streaks where the skin had given way beneath her scratching. Joined at the hip, she grinded against him, rubbing herself, while he positioned himself, slowly losing control as the base of his penis aligned with her clitoris, the enlarged nub rubbing against his body and stimulating her._

_She grunted, her face red, her auburn hair a netted mess on the covers, his hands tangled up in it as he deeply kissed her once more, their lips locked. She moved, stimulated by the position they were in, her feet around his neck. Soon, she felt the tide, crest, atomic fire burning in every cell of her body, and she moved her legs to lock around his hips, bringing him in deeper. Pulling him deeper into her, unconcerned that they hadn't used protection, she caught him and whispered three simple words._

"_Come with me."_

_Dick braced himself as he felt the action, the muscles contracting in his lower regions, before Barbara pulled him into her as far as he could go. The intensity of the experience, as he spilled himself into her, peaked, before both collapsed into total exhaustion, having gone continuously for the past two days, courtesy of Poison Ivy's sex pollen. _

_They had been virgins before, but now, their hunger sated, they slept peacefully, hidden in the darkest corners of the Batcave, Alfred having tactfully guided them to a disused corner of the cave equipped with a simple mattress, phone and minibar to flush their systems of the pollen. Alfred certainly did not want to see, hear or smell them, especially after they had been all over each other in front of him, the minute they had touched down in the cave._

_At the door, Selina peeked in while wearing a respirator, voyeuristically glancing over the couple. If she hadn't worn it, she would certainly have been affected. Bruce had been less affected, but only for half a day, and she had certainly helped him resolve that problem._

_The couple would wake up to an awkward situation, unsure of how to react to one another_, _now that the deed was done. For Dick, it was an experience he did not want to have again._

**WWW**

"I lost myself, Star. I… we… it just wasn't right to do it, and it was embarrassing after that. There was nothing to it, and it didn't mean anything. It was _sex pollen_. How could I know?"

Starfire gazed at him and blinked, before pressing her hands over her mouth. Slowly, as relief filled her mind, that she wasn't the cause of it, her shoulders began to move, before she gave up trying and opened her mouth into a full guffaw, laughing to her heart's content. It was just so funny that she couldn't stop laughing. The expression on her boy's face was priceless.

Any other male would have gladly submitted to the action and had a night of wild passion with that busty little Batgirl bitch, all curves and legs and red hair, but here was her Richard pouring out his heart to her, telling her his most embarrassing secret to date, and he was scared to be physically intimate with her simply because he'd lost control once before and none of it his fault.

"Oh Robin, just… come here."

Without waiting for him to reply, she caught him in a hug and began to kiss him once more, content for now that the little dilemma of theirs was solved. Robin knew without a doubt, judging by the length of her kiss, that he was forgiven. He realized that in some cases honesty was truly the best policy. After all, not only is covering up lies a lot harder than lovemaking, but it's nowhere near as enjoyable.

**WWW**

BB stood in front of the apartment building, very conspicuous by the fact that he was wearing a parka emblazoned with the Titans logo to guard against the chill wind.

Aziz had asked him a question about Terra, and he'd gladly answered some of them, having to do more with her personality as well as her appearance. Then, out of the blue, Az had simply asked him to come for a ride on his jetbike. Jumping at the chance, he'd taken control and had sped across the bay at full speed, relishing the wind in his hair. However, once they'd reached the mainland, Aziz had taken over, navigating the city and dropping him off at Cirrus Apartments.

It was a condominium development that had once been under one of Wilson Slade's aliases, now the property of Tara Markov. Aziz had simply had a look through city records to find it, and hacked a few more systems, including the Markovian intelligence agency via restricted high-level NATO servers illegally to get more info.

She had been in one of his prescient dreams that were memories of future times, before he'd suppressed anything even remotely having to do with those powers. Anything connected to the Imperial Ulthaj power that lay dormant within.

Before long, a security guard came up to him, quite happy to let a resident superhero in to visit his girlfriend. Only his professional pride stopped the guard from asking for an autograph.

In the back of his mind, Gar remembered that he would have to thank Aziz, but an action like this did little to ease his suspicion of him regardless. Some things one did not forget, even if they went out of their way to reunite them with their loved ones.

After so long, he would finally face Terra.

**WWW**

Cyborg chatted with Sarah on the phone. Despite the fact that he was a cyborg with half his brain composed of advanced bioelectronics, a mesh of cerebral tissue, silicon microchips and platinum wires, he was still a human male, and many neglected to remember that. Which meant relationships, social contact, and for any straight heterosexual male, of which community Cyborg was a member of- women.

Sarah was a girl he'd met while doing community outreach work with Jinx and Kid Flash, whose real name was Bart Allen. Wally West, his older cousin, a founder of the Justice League, was known as the Flash, and Bart had taken the namesake of Kid Flash in honour of him, much like Supergirl had done for Superman. Within the superhero community, someone knew to some degree about who the other was, excepting perhaps the secretive few like Batman.

Sarah was down to earth, practical, smart, could hold a conversation and was a charitable, kind soul. In essence, she was the opposite of practically every other girl that Cyborg had dated or had been in a relationship with.

It had taken his conversion into a half-human being to make him realize exactly how shallow the girls he had been dating were. In the initial days, he had sought out his old girlfriends, seeking solace with them, only to be rejected outright, met with derision and disgust after meeting them face to face.

Some had even had the gall to approach him after he'd made it as a Titan, fawning over him and trying to once more get into his good books. Where they'd fallen at his feet, offering themselves to him, he'd simply stepped over them.

He didn't need them. Not anymore. He'd learned that the ghost was more important than the machine.

Sarasim had been the closest he'd come to having a lover again since his conversion to a cyborg. Starved of touch, of human contact, he'd been so eager, and they'd just been starting, when Raven had pulled him from her side. Of course he understood it now. That was how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to happen; an example of a predestination paradox. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

"So, what are you wearing?" said the voice over the phone, a hint of cheekiness to it.

Cyborg's eyes widened slightly. So she wanted to play that game? He grinned slyly. _That girl has no idea what she's getting into._

"Well…"

**WWW**

Raven stared at him, unconsciously licking her dry lips. Aziz watched the heave of her chest, the rise and fall, the curves of her body, taken in one swift glance. Once more human and trapped in an adolescent body, his hormones were starting to betray him. He was tired of fighting them.

He was tired on so many levels that he just wanted to sleep. To wake up on Sunday morning, and simply let himself be. To sleep without being plagued by the dreams, the nightmares that constantly came to him. Mostly to do with the deaths of his family, of a few friends, but always the recurring ones were those of his death.

He'd dropped BB off at Terra's place, and he would pick him up once he called. Why he'd done it was simple; far better to reunite two lost lovers rather than leave them separate, each suffering apart from the other. He knew from experience how embittering it was, leaving things unsaid, until it was too late. It was the same with family and friends. Just a few words could make such a difference.

"Raven, we need to talk… about my dreams; my memories."

He knew it and she knew it. A sensitive topic had been broached.

She stared at him, fathomless lavender eyes looking into his, searching for something. She beckoned him to come into her room, and he did so.

**WWW**

Terra heard a knock on the door, and looked through the pinhole. The sight caused her to stop breathing for a full minute. _He_ was here.

Trembling, she opened the door, unsure of how to react to him. She had been expecting him to come eventually, but not like this. She had so many things she wanted to say, to apologise to him for being weak, for betraying him, for breaking his heart, for rejecting him when he had come to her. She wanted to say sorry for so many things, and had rehearsed it in front of the mirror countless times.

But then again, it's easy to say things to a mirror. It will patiently wait until you say something and won't say anything back, however badly you speak. It's like a combat drill with a dummy; only half the experience is there, so you need double the courage when the real event arrives.

As they stood in the doorway they looked at one another, eyes exploring, seeing the changes over the past few months of separation.

The moment BB set foot inside her apartment she threw herself at him, crying and blubbering like a small child, unable to hold back the torrent of emotions that overwhelmed her, all the things she'd wanted to say for ages coming out in a babble that reduced itself to sobs. A lot can build up behind a dam, and when it bursts…

He hugged her tightly, and both fell to their knees, expressing with their hugs what they could not say with their voices.

_I love you. I value you. I forgive you._

For Garfield Logan, there was an even more important message.

_I love you and accept you. Welcome home_.

For the first time since she'd left him, he felt like he had a home. There was an entire universe out there, but right then he didn't want any of it. All that mattered was Terra, and that he was with her.

**WWW**

Aziz had a theory about the bond, and hoped that it would work. If so, it would allow him his privacy and prevent more feedback across the bond, preventing her from seeing any more of his life than he wished.

As he was about to start, Raven interrupted his thoughts, jarring his mind with a question that he never would have expected and bringing back memories that were best left untouched.

"Why was your mother so cruel to you?"

**WWW**

_He was 14 years old. His father had died when he was 12, having been executed by members of his own family. His half-brother had shot him in the head, having given him a choice; his eldest son, or himself. In front of his eldest son, they'd executed him, leaving his corpse to cool where it lay. Then they'd left the abandoned warehouse. Aziz had only managed to escape from the room when the body had already bloated, hands and legs bloodied from being rubbed raw against steel chains_._ They'd cremated the corpse and given the ashes to his distraught wife. The punishment for their crime of eloping with each other was simple; never stop making them pay._

_From then on, he had never laughed. As the eldest son, he was obliged to help support the family. Given the area they lived in, the best way to support his mother's production manager job and earn enough money to support 4 children was simple; pit fighting._

_Thrown into the cage against opponents who were usually stronger, heavier and more brutal than him, Aziz excelled. His approach was simple; Vale Tudo. Anything went. That was how he'd given his father a herniated disc when he was 11, when the beatings had stopped. In his drunken state, his father knew better than to beat any of his children. Even sober, he was hard-pressed to fight against someone who fought with total abandon, irregardless of his safety._

_This was the exact same approach he took in the ring, and earned him a reputation as the "Bruce Lee Incarnate" or "Dancer of Death", for his relentless fighting hybrid of Khmer Bokator, Jeet Kun Do and Vale Tudo, taught to him by a Jesuit priest from the Philippines. It had kept him off the streets and in school, and a major reason why he was popular among students in school, even for a prefect. If someone fucked around or bullied one of the smaller students or any of his friends on Aziz's watch, they didn't see the principal. They saw the school medic instead._

_School teachers teach tolerance and understanding. Unfortunately, they fail to understand one very simple principle; to get through something as thick as a bully's skull, you're going to need a lot more than detentions._

_He'd come back late one day, limbs bruised from fighting several different opponents, to find her slumped in her chair, a bottle of tequila and several prescription sleeping pills scattered over the table. Ever since his father died she'd been in a downward spiral, depression eventually costing her job, with several part-time jobs in-between and the money he earned from pit fighting, as well as some of his uncle's charity money supporting them and paying his and his sibling's way through school._

_At first he'd tried to wake her, shaking her before slapping her awake. She'd briefly regained consciousness, before looking at him and saying something that no son should ever hear from a mother. Her final words to him were simple in their vehemence._

"_I __**HATE**__ you…"_

_And she died. By the time the paramedics arrived to collect the body, it was cold. Somewhere within him, any remnant of the boy that had once laughed and chortled with joy, like any other child, had also died. _

_Two years later he would join the military as a means to support his family, and be shaped into the individual he was to become._

**WWW**

"That… that was long ago, Raven." His expressionless façade had dropped. After all, what else was there left to hide? She knew.

"Why am I experiencing your emotions and memories, your dreams? Why do we have this… bond? All I'm facing is more questions and I'm tired of it. I want it to stop."

Raven moved closer to him, as he leaned against the wall. She could see the fatigue; tautness in his face indicating the stress he felt. For the first time, she could finally read his moods, a desire for sleep visible in the reddened eyes and heavy eyelids in conflict with the need to answer her questions.

Standing straight, he found that in following her, they'd somehow manoeuvred into a position where they'd been placed in close contact, quite unintentionally. His back to the wall, if he sought to leave the room, he'd have to move uncomfortably close to Raven, brushing past her bed where she stood, between her and an abode in the wall.

Consciously forcing himself to relax his muscles, he answered her.

"In my assessment, the bond is spontaneous, derived from a subconscious desire of yours to link with a companion soul who is similar to you. Hence your mental bond with Robin. Ours is more profound and at a deeper level; that of emotions and the subconscious. My stress is weakening the barriers, and because I'm diminished, that also adds to this feedback you're getting. You still have your barriers up, but I can still sense your emotions. As for my solution, well, let's just say it involves me sleeping in your room, or vice versa. As long as there is sufficient physical proximity, while not having physical privacy, we can have mental privacy in our sleep. Now, good night, I am tired, I want to sleep, and you are not going to stop me."

Turning, he tried to leave and avoid bumping into her, but she moved, forcing him against the wall.

"I _order _you to answer me!"

Raven was exasperated to the point of anger. Her fatigue melted away under the blowtorch of anger. But suddenly she realised the position they were in, and her breathing slowed.

She felt his breath on her face, and only then did she realise that their noses were nearly touching. Her hands, trying to catch and pinion him to get an answer, had locked around his hip and the other just under his arm, the muscle feeling like warm marble. She could feel a tension like a coiled spring between them, ready to explode.

"We're in a compromising position, Raven…."

She forced a more commanding tone into her voice, even as her cheeks blushed.

"Don't change the topic. Answer me-!"

Although he gave her a different answer, it was still exactly the one she wanted.

**WWW**

Aziz looked into her face, with its high cheekbones and graceful lines. Attractive and dusk-skinned, she would be a prize for any man. Something primal in him stirred. She had shoved him against the wall and he was pinned, though he could easily shrug her off.

"We're in a compromising position, Raven…"

He let it hang in the air, felt the tension crackling between them.

Just as she opened her mouth, he no longer heard the words. Surrendering for the first time in centuries to instinct, he claimed her mouth, placing a feather-soft kiss there, merely brushing the surface. He merely placed it, waiting for her reaction. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fullness of experience. It had been a full century since he had been with anyone, male, female or transsexual, given his pansexual orientation, even in a casual encounter. Not that he required it, but it was certainly a fulfilling experience regardless.

He hung there before he felt her own moist lips respond to his, and he let his tongue merely brush it, tasting her. Her scent was strong, feminine cinnamon and citrus, emanating from her hair, her entire body.

He keyed his senses as they stumbled to the bed, before he stopped himself. He shouldn't seduce her, though he could if he wanted. He was certainly capable of it. They shouldn't do this. So soon, and if he did, it would complicate things needlessly. But what if, just this once…

_Your whole life you've lived for other people; following the orders of your superiors, taking care of your subordinates. What about __your__ life, Aziz?_

He held her as they fell onto the bed, simply holding her against him, caressing her body beneath her clothes and nothing more, taking no further actions that that. She reciprocated, and soon they lay in each others' arms, content beneath her duvet. Nothing more, nothing less.

For the first time in years, Aziz had a deep, dreamless sleep.

As for Raven, it was her first kiss. Her sleep was not dreamless, but it was not as though she minded that much. Dreams have this terrible knack at being so much better than reality.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**Reunion of the Lost Lovers**

**A/N: Enormous thanks to my beta Kazza for his work. He should really become a professional proofreader/editor. What you see before you is an example of his work. That,and you should read some of his stories too. **

**WWW**

Raven couldn't have said exactly when she'd completed the return trip from the land of Nod, but wake she did. Straying just on the borders of wakefulness, Raven languorously and luxuriously unfolded from the somewhat curled up position she'd assumed while asleep, stretching in a fashion that would have made any imaginative observer wonder why Raven wasn't purring.

She hadn't expected a dream like that; not in her wildest dreams, which for Raven wasn't saying much. She had fantasized about it, of course. Certain constants would always prevail over those still undergoing the physiological turbulence of adolescence, and Raven was no exception.

It is a widely expressed opinion that men are generally far more prurient than women. This may or may not be true, but what is certain is how females experience sexual desires in a much more subtle way than most males; in a more subdued way that is more cerebral than visual, which accounts for how the words of a romance novel would be far more arousing for a woman than a man.

It is perhaps inevitable, once one has achieved a certain celebrity status, that fans will start to view you in a sexual context, unless you're Jack Black. Raven had – in the course of her extensive ponderings – strayed across this idea, which had subsequently led to her to use that most widespread and accessible of all media; the Internet.

Raven had come across stories and artwork on the World Wide Web about her with Beast Boy, Robin or Cyborg, and honestly, they were…disturbing at times. While she was flattered by the artwork, some of it _very _flattering (Raven had even caught herself furtively wishing she had a physique like that), much of it was downright pornographic in nature.

Turning, she tensed as she felt an arm hooked around her waist, a warm body next to her.

_So… it wasn't a dream._

Slowly, the sepia-tinted images flowed into her mind, of the briefest kisses, the sweetness of the experience as he had ravished her mouth, and she'd responded in kind, before they'd drifted off into sleep, him too exhausted too continue, her too sleepy and overwhelmed with shock at her first intimate experience with a man to think rationally.

She hadn't been wearing her uniform, simply a loose shirt and sweatpants, while he'd been in his casual attire of fighting trunks and singlet. She looked underneath the sheets and was relieved to find that neither was naked. Something happening so…abruptly could change the dynamic they seemed to be entering. She had never experienced such physical closeness to another human being, her most expressive moments being in the aftermath of Trigon's defeat.

No, if Raven was to enter any relationship, it would be taken slowly. She was not the kind who would launch into any relationship based purely on something so crude as desire; something like that could flicker and die so easily, leaving Raven emotionally crippled… or even more so than she already was. A strong love relationship was founded on friendship more than just desire, and the essentials of friendship – mutual trust and respect – took time to build.

She turned to look at him, only to see a face at peace, muscles relaxed. She reached out a finger and traced it along his jaw line slowly, admiring the structure and symmetry of his face, the normally indifferent face lacking any emotion now perfectly calm.

He stirred slowly, like any normal, mortal human, pulling her closer to him, and she looked at the clock to realize it was already 7.30. She pondered whether to wake him, before slowly extricating herself from his grip and heading to brush her teeth. Without a doubt, she knew he'd be awake in moments, disappearing to make breakfast after making a quick check on her whereabouts.

Ever since he'd come, he somewhat displaced Cyborg and BB from the kitchen, with the result being that it was organized and neat, with clearly designated locations for everything, and a marked increase in the quality of the food, namely its taste and nutritional value, as well as variety. It was, as Beast Boy had said, 'like that dude's stolen the fun outta the kitchen and put it in the food'.

He could cook up Thai, Japanese, Cuban, Brazilian, French, Chinese, Indian, Arabic and various other foods given the appropriate ingredients, and his work on reducing the amount of tofu they were forced to ingest was _greatly_ appreciated, especially so by Cyborg.

BB had been converted to Chinese and Indian vegetarian food, as well as several spicy tofu dishes that were surprisingly good, and had taken to learning how to cook Gujarati cuisine from Az, which was predominantly vegetarian, with many subtle tastes from the combined mélange of spices.

And there were of course old Midwestern favourites like flapjacks drowning in maple syrup and/or honey. Now _those_ were Raven's favourite.

**WWW**

"_I missed you, Terra. Not a day… not _one _day went by without me thinking about how much I missed you. I moved on because I had to; because of the others, they needed me to keep going, but even so… I could never tell you just how much of a hole you left behind in my life."_

_Terra looked slowly at Garfield, her eyes drinking in his movements, his face. She reached out to him, caressing one side of the green face that she knew so intimately, her fingers trembling ever so slightly._

"_I'm sorry, Gar. I…I was scared of the answer I'd get. I was scared you'd reject me. Even after you came for me, after everything that happened, I was scared you'd reject me. I betrayed-" _

_Garfield silenced Terra with a finger to her luscious lips and a quiet shushing. He'd had half a mind to silence her in a more romantic fashion, but not yet… not yet. Taking his hand in hers and raising it, Garfield's lips gently caressed Terra's fingers, working his way along her arm…_

"_It doesn't matter that you betrayed the Titans. All that matters is that you're with me now… and I've dreamed of this for so long. During the day, when I had other things to do, it wasn't too bad, but in the night, lying in bed alone… I hungered for you, Terra; to touch you, hold you close, and… just _be_ with you." The kisses continued in between his explanations, progressing bit by bit to soft nips at Terra's smooth skin._

"_But none of that matters now. You're with me again, and you're all I need."_

_A gasp of both surprise and delight escaped Terra as Garfield gnawed fiercely at her shoulder. His words and actions were becoming increasingly desperate; they simply _screamed_ of primal lust, a yearning – no, a _need_ for physical closeness and contact after so long a separation._

_Garfield seemed to realise that Terra wasn't replying. Pulling back slightly, afraid that he'd somehow frightened or offended Terra, Garfield looked at her with eyes full of pleading, begging to be allowed to continue, his face redder than usual._

_Small electric charges seemed to run across the surface of Garfield's face as Terra lightly brushed her fingers over his cheeks, every touch sensuous to the last._

"_I've felt exactly the same way."_

_Garfield's heart started beating again upon hearing her clear and irrevocable consent, and he pulled Terra close again, continuing his ministrations upon her neck with renewed vigour. Terra giggled, the reality even better than her daydreams as Garfield tried to take off Terra's top and bra at the same time._

That was then. This is now.

The two of them lay in bed, just as thoroughly tangled in a spider's web of sheets as they were in each other's limbs. Throughout that night, all the two of them had known was either light and inconstant sleep or desperate but joyful wakefulness; very often one or the other had woken up to find they were already being kissed or caressed.

There was a definite presence of soreness between Terra's thighs, although she considered this as a good pain. It was testament to… well; the extensive amount of sexual gymnastics they'd pulled off, not always horizontally. And that's putting it lightly.

But, as aforementioned, Terra was happier than she could ever remember being. There's nothing like the bitter tang of loneliness to make you appreciate your partner; as the song goes, you never know what you've got 'till it's gone, and the two of them had explored this saying as far as it could go in their strenuous and painstaking 'catching up'. She suspected, not openly of course, that Garfield had pulled a groin muscle, given how he'd groaned after one particularly tricky maneuver.

After all, if he indulged her tentacle monster fantasies, then she sure as well could indulge some of his gymnast/schoolgirl ones as well. An incident came to mind where a costume she'd bought from a cosplay store had ended up destroyed when they'd combined both fantasies, to rather extraordinary effect.

Back in those happy days when Terra had first joined the Titans, the young girl had been somewhat gangling and not altogether the epitome of the feminine form – but certain physical and lifestyle changes had seen to that. Terra considered that she had actually been rather lucky in this respect, and had obtained the perfectly curved 'hourglass' physique that many a woman would have killed for.

Terra was taught, toned and generally ravishing. Not only that, but her ass was every bit as firm and rounded as any female might hope for – at least, if Garfield's attentions were anything to go by.

She looked at his face and traced it with the back of her hand, noting the lean muscle he'd developed. Once, she'd been taller than him. Now, he was growing out and up, and was a few inches taller than her. It was incredible to think how much difference a few inches could make.

Terra got up slowly to avoid disturbing him, and went to the toilet. There were things to do, least of which was attending her language classes and meeting her friends for a movie. But first things first; she'd enjoy a breakfast with her boyfriend…

…for the first time in a very, _very_ long time indeed.

**WWW**

Back in the tower, things were becoming interesting. Robin was genuinely surprised. Usually Saturday morning consisted of people sleeping in late, while he was the first to rise, eager to get a head start on the day. Today, he'd entered the kitchen to find Raven and Az cooking side by side, her cooking pancakes while he was busy cutting onions, garlic, potatoes, chicken, coriander and numerous other spices, preparing a stew for lunch.

He noted the closeness with which they acted in relation to each other, an ease that hadn't been there before. Oddly enough, Robin found it refreshing. He wasn't sure if they were close friends or a couple, but _something_ had changed, as if a barrier had been lowered somewhere. He even noticed a rare ghost smile on Az's normally indifferent façade, and the hint of a grin on Raven's face.

This Saturday, they were officially off duty, unless some major metahuman threat occurred, but what they faced nowadays was mostly street crime, which hardly warranted their attention given the excellent police coverage and enforcement.

Jump City was one of the safest cities in North America, in large part thanks to progressive programs emphasizing education, workfare – a form of welfare payment that hinged on the recipient of welfare getting employed or studying – urban renewal and a well-equipped police force, along with an attractive social and physical environment that attracted investment and immigration.

"Ah! Greetings, Boy Blunder. There's mustard on your girlfriend's pancakes as per usual. Do you have any orders for your breakfast, O fearless leader?"

"So I presume your girlfriend will wish for mustard with her pancakes? And do you have any requests, oh great leader and boy blunder?"

Although this last line disturbed Robin somewhat, since it was after all not something you'd expect to come from the same mouth that habitually intoned mantras day and night, nevertheless he couldn't help feeling happy for Raven. Her normal reserve had been dropped so far that a quiet smile and a shared mocking glance with Aziz seemed perfectly normal to Raven.

Robin smiled back. It was pleasant to see the team functioning so well.

_I've got a good feeling about today._

**WWW**

Rayaan parried the blow from the Carnifex, the hit both blocking its attack and sending it flying. He'd taken a particular liking to the Tyrranid species, perhaps because of their extremely customizable genetic structure, and had taken to having several Carnifexes engineered with the two dominant strains of Kryptonian hominid DNA that existed.

One strain that existed depended upon the metabolism of yellow sunlight, granting extreme physical attributes, while another was inherent in the physiology, with no reliance for an external source of energy, thus not fluctuating upon a change in environment.

With a blow that would have stunned even Doomsday, he blocked yet another Carnifex's bioplasma blast, deflecting it into the mob surrounding him.

It was part of his training in the Chamber of Spirit and Time. He regularly fought three at a time, going so far once as to have fought twelve when he was younger. In that incident, he'd nearly been overwhelmed, and it had taken the swift action of his elder foster brother to save him when he'd been the Janthril Warmaster.

Without even using Rukt or Shath'Hal he'd lashed out with his body alone, killing the berserk beasts with a single blow each, the strength of his strikes bending space-time around them and scattering the quarks of their structure across vast continuums and strata of reality. He'd been powerful enough to overcome a version of Kal-El merged with a synthetic sun, with the baseline physical attributes to move stars across the galaxy, _after_ that version had absorbed the energy of twenty supernovas. The time taken for the Karas'thy Raksa to overwhelm him through pure physical force alone was in the span of milliseconds.

Of course, he'd been the Warmaster then, and Rayaan owed his control, his exacting precision and skill, to Az's training. He'd taught him how to fight without injuring, how to kill, as well as to discipline himself. For he'd always been taught that power without control, or freedom without discipline, was wasted; energy not channeled properly, as it should be.

His power, compared to his foster brother at full power, was like comparing an electron to an entire universe; the gulf was too great, and besides, what point was there trying to compare the power of a deity able to create universes to that of an Imperial Ulthaj, even one dormant and reluctant? Even if that entity viewed itself a beast, did that self-perception make it one? On many levels, and depending on whom you asked, the answer each time was different.

Still, in a diminished state, his brother, while lacking in power, was still far too dangerous to confront whether openly or subtly. Few found it wise to confront a being with the willpower to dominate Rukt and also be honoured with possession of Shath'Hal, the 'One Who Dreams'. Why else assign such a being to guard the Raven Queen?

Currently, he was in his Diamond manifestation, the lowest physical manifestation of his being, more than capable of defeating up to six of the enhanced Carnifexes. Given that after each defeat, the beasts spawned new variants with greater adaptation, cunning, intelligence, toughness and strength, he was beginning to push his limits, but he would see how it went.

Blocking a blow that would have killed Doomsday outright, he retaliated with a series of devastating upper cuts, kicks and shoulder strikes, ending with an elbow strike to the back of the beast that broke its backbone and penetrated through its body, smashing its internal organs and liquefying its bones.

With his telepathy, he neutered the ability of the last few clones to exist, shutting down their autonomic functions, before exiting the chamber. Outside, Rugal Al-Ilham awaited him.

With the entry of Trigon into the picture, plans had been disrupted, with Khallusk, Myster and Urenor the last ones remaining within the Omniverse, the others having left through the gate. That, and three powerful beings had been detected, the pale shadow of a psychic echo their only trace.

Yet, despite all their efforts, these beings were cloaked in shadow, and Khallusk had refused to communicate anything beyond the fact that one of them was extremely powerful and was a renegade Black Tiger Society Waaqi-Nyame, easily surpassing both Rugal and Rayaan in potency. The others had left, leaving only Myster, Urenor, Khallusk & Shaluf Khas as the most powerful active entities in the Omniverse.

This in itself left no doubt in mind as to who exactly it was. Gurenon.

**WWW**

Metron navigated the byways of time, realizing that something had irrevocably changed. The structure, the very quantum of time itself, had locked onto a path of strictest causality, strings of time leading and spiraling onto a single individual. All other events were indirectly tied to this individual.

From New Genesis he had tracked it, along with the unprecedented aid of several of the Guardians of Oa, the Phantom Stranger, even the indirect assistance of the Divine Wrath and Lucifer Morningstar himself, who in his unending pride had first opposed the Presence, Yahweh, at the beginning of the universe.

Among the worlds of the universe, the worlds that maintained the balance were Oa, New Genesis and quite paradoxically, Earth.

Earth held the attention of the New Gods, Apokolips especially, for the notability of its heroes, such as the last Kryptonian in existence, Kal-El, as well as the possibility that there on Earth existed the Anti-Life Equation, in one form or another. Some believed it was the _ultimate _power source in the universe, a path to godhood, while others believed it to be a mathematical proof of the futility of living. Even Metron himself, in all his knowledge, could not truly know.

Given that Earth was officially under the protection of New Genesis, the peace treaty extending to cover that world, it was relatively secure, and the possibility of one happening across the Anti-Life Equation was most unlikely. That and the presence of the Justice League tended to be a powerful deterrent to most interstellar polities intent on pursuing actions there.

In all his projections, Earth was in the infancy of developing a powerful transgalactic, one to rival the might of even that of New Genesis, if the humans managed to survive any internecine warfare.

However, recent events had proven things unstable. First, he had been unable to traverse through time, unable to enter the past except as a phantom, unable to affect in any way the functioning of the timeline. Secondly, there had been the inability to project into the future.

Time seemed to be held in a giant net, the strings of temporal energy twisted in a web that led to Earth and a single individual – The Jewel of Scath, the daughter of Trigon. A nexus of temporal events seemed to storm and rage around her, countless paths leading off into the future, most of them scenes of utter desolation, as a great war swept across galaxies, then, across planes of reality, eventually engulfing the entire universe.

The extinction of entire species and the utter end of even New Genesis, engulfed by the Flames of Apokolips, the Green Lantern Corps in ruins, Oa itself reduced to asteroids floating in space-time.

Yet, for all his power and knowledge, Metron could not act, only observe. He had sought the advice of the Phantom Stranger, of Highfather Izaya, of countless beings who were as old as the universe itself, steeped in wisdom and intellect. The answer was always the same. _Wait_.

However, most troubling of all was the cryptic message that had come to him from beyond the Source Wall itself, from Yahweh em'self.

_The Destroyer is nigh. Beware that which hungers, whom only two can wield, yet only one master. Beware the path to damnation that lies in its wielding, for those who take that path will travel beyond death's slow unfolding._

In the brief glimpses of the future allowed to him, of the numerous oracles that he'd consulted in his search for answers, only one thing was certain. In the future that was to be, all who were tied to Earth would suffer.

**WWW**

Robin was a superb fighter, and he knew that. It wasn't arrogance, simply a powerful self-confidence that allowed him to back up his claim to be one of the best martial artists and unarmed fighters, albeit a confidence bordering on cockiness.

He was a master of half a dozen martial arts disciplines that included Judo, Jeet Kune Do, Taekwondo, Aikido, Wing Chun and Escrima, as well as possessing advanced training in other martial arts such as Hapkido, Jiu-jitsu, Karate, Savate, Kendo, Ninjitsu, Tai Chi and Krav Maga. He'd also been taught to fight tactically by Batman, combining his skill with application of intelligence.

However, he was more of an acrobat and gymnast than a fighter, something which came out in the way he fought, with high energy and movement, in a flurry of pirouettes and somersaults, jumping off walls to impact with his enemies.

Performing a side cartwheel, he threw his staff with inhuman accuracy at a target board, before a wooden training knife flew out from nowhere and hit it at the midsection, a centimeter wide area no larger than his thumb. After his stomach had settled, he'd gone on to perform some of his routines, eager to train and use up the excess energy from the night before. They had been so close to doing _it_, but he just felt the time wasn't right.

**WWW**

"You are good. Excellent even, but you can still be better than you are now." Aziz leaned against the wall, balancing a real dagger on his finger by its tip, letting it remain perfectly motionless, before sheathing it in a single fluid move and depositing it by the side.

Dick bristled slightly at the interruption. He did not like being interrupted during his training. It was one of the few times where he was totally absorbed in what he was doing, with no external worries or thoughts to interrupt his mind, as it followed the flow of his actions.

It was not that he never took to Aziz, it was simply that he felt threatened by his presence, of lingering mistrust and a combination of issues, much to do with that _blade_, as well as the insinuation of a higher agency of some sort having plans that involved him and Raven.

It wasn't that he didn't want to trust him, but he didn't know the full details behind him yet. There was too much mystery surrounding him and his agenda, yet he'd proven loyal to the extent that he'd risked his life willingly for Raven over several instances, several times and suffering multiple injuries in the process, with the last fight leading to the near destruction of his suit and several acid scars.

The suit electronics that had survived immersion in the seawater had been destroyed by the acid and the electromagnetic interference generated by robots. Unsurprisingly, he managed to heal extremely fast due to his abilities, besides his hardiness. It was currently sitting in the workshop, leaking gel with several gashes in it.

"What do you want?" he replied, annoyance giving his voice an edge. It was met with the usual indifference. Aziz continued.

"Do you know what a bonsai tree is? It is an imitation of a real tree. It is kept in a small pot with limited nutrients, trimmed constantly to fit someone else's whim. It looks like a real tree, except it can't do many things a real tree can. It cannot provide shelter, it cannot find food on its own; its life and death are totally reliant on its owner. It is the plant version of the three-inch Chinese bound foot for women: useless and painful."

"Your point being…?"

"A bonsai, once freed from its limits, planted in a new environment, can grow to fulfill its potential. Its roots reach down into the earth, seeking nutrients and drawing its strength from the ground, its canopy growing lush and beautiful as it grows, roots intertwining with that of other trees in the forest, mingling and joining at the roots."

"Don't mess me around, Aziz. Stop talking in metaphors. What are you trying to say?"

"Why be just _excellent_, when you can be among the _best_? You have potential, Dick. I can see it in you. You have potential to be one of the greats, a master the equal of Richard Dragon himself. I could train you if you wished. I know much, and I can share with you."

Dick snorted, trying to hold back laughter. "YOU think YOU can teach me? I learned from _the _Batman. I learnt from the True Master. I've trained with the Bronze Tiger and I've managed to hold my own against Deathstroke. I know my limits. I know I'm good, and I'm still improving, but…what can _you_ teach _me_? Trying to prove a point? Trying to challenge my leadership of the Titans?"

"No. I merely express a suggestion that you have greater potential. Tell you what, how about we spar full-contact, no rules? And I won't use weapons."

Dick's eyes narrowed at the suggestion. He'd seen what Aziz had done with Batman, how he'd always held the upper hand and dragged it out, letting himself win by barely a hair's width. The rational part of his mind admitted that training with Aziz would benefit him, but humans are not known to be the most rational of creatures. Beneath the mask, pride and resentment, anger and suspicion that had long been dormant came to the fore.

Winking at Aziz, Robin lunged at him, only to find his doughty opponent already behind him, nearly too fast for his eyes to see. A quick tap on Robin's shoulder and he launched an elbow backwards, only to spin just in time to catch his staff, thrown at him by Aziz.

"Perhaps you will have a more manageable fight with that."

The veneer of control was gone. The perceived insult, aimed at his skills, at his ability, drew on his anger, and without restraint, he lashed out at his teammate, yelling in anger.

_A quarter of an hour later…_

"Tired?"

"Not… _(puff, pant) _yet!"

Aziz avoided another blow. Once in a while, he'd stepped into the range of the staff-wielding Dick, only to evade and dodge the strikes directed at him before disarming him, avoiding the subsequent sweeps and other attacks, many of them delivered with enough force to injure. Dick had switched to escrima sticks, only to have them knocked out of his hand in seconds.

Dick hadn't succeeded in hitting him once. Though, unlike earlier fights, especially due to a drop in his physical abilities, there were several near-hits. In terms of physical abilities, without any augmentation of his physical attributes, the Black Tiger was as human as Robin.

As for Dick, his body was slick with sweat, dripping from his drenched shirt and pants onto the matted floor. The same could not be said for his opponent, with only a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Stepping once more into range, the next strike he blocked, pressing down lightly on a nerve cluster along Dick's temple. Within a second, Dick was down and rubbing his head.

"Now, would you be interested in learning from me? If not, you can continue as you are. You're good, Dick, but you have the chance to be better. I will only extend this offer once. Don't let it pass you by."

Without further words, he turned and left, leaving as silently as he came, leaving Robin to go over exactly what had happened and what had been said.

**WWW**

_He is a growing bonsai, a son who is in some way held back by the shadow of his father._

The presence of Batman in Jump City had affected Richard Grayson at a subconscious level, and Aziz could see it. Vast experience told him so. Even though he lacked the former access to his genetic memories, ancestral memories, the mortal collective unconscious or that of former incarnations and the span of his full life, he still had over a millennia of accumulated memories as Aziz Khan Alsagoff, not as Temugin, or Jangai Utar, or Miroku Kanzaki, all previous lives of his.

He had observed enough of the minute physical reactions, had observed enough to guess that they had split over diverging methodologies and over the limits the other had.

Robin had chosen the more compassionate path, unwilling to follow the ruthless, lonely path of Batman, of his Machiavellian schemes and manipulation of even the ones he loved to achieve his goals. Such manipulation was one reason why Selina Kyle had left him; why she'd left Gotham, why Talia was so unwilling to ever let Bruce Wayne know of the sons he had fathered with her, and a possibility that any romance with Diana of Thermyscira was doomed.

Yet there was a deep and profound respect there as well; a yearning for open approval, for the path he had chosen and carved for himself. Like any son, Richard wanted the approval of his father, Bruce, and Aziz knew only too well how that felt, as a father and a son.

He knew that Robin could never be as ruthless or driven as Batman, could see it in his movements, in his physical expressions, in his acts. He would fight the good fight, always in the light, unable to reconcile the darkness within that drove him, whereas Batman could, internalizing the innate human capacity for evil to strike from the darkness and fight the conflicts that went on in the shades of grey, where few heroes dared tread. For what scares heroes more than ambiguity?

The only line that Batman couldn't cross was that of murder. That line did not exist for Aziz; he'd crossed that line long ago and could kill as casually as one would breathe. As long as he was a Titan, then he could not, **would** not kill. By all rights, he would have normally killed the Joker without a second thought, but had not, for the simple reason that he was a Titan, and that the Joker had a purpose to serve in the creation of a second Batman yet to be, whose name Aziz already knew to be Terence McGinnis.

. They were too naïve, to innocent and unknowing of the depths of darkness that humans could descend to, and how that sometimes necessitated the killing of a fellow human.

Robin had his innocence, and that was why he would never accomplish the feats Batman had. Unless he was willing to accept it and drive himself to the edge, like Bruce, he would never be as good as his predecessor, at fighting from the darkness, of fighting the _bad _fight that Bruce often fought. The problem with fighting in the light is that people can see you so much more easily there.

In the end though, if one was to compare the happiness of their respective lives, of the relationships that held them to reality and the people who were bound to them, Richard Grayson had exceeded his father figure in more ways than one.

**WWW**

Aziz Yap Gang Hu was the name he'd taken upon marrying Grace Yap, in his original universe, to honour her, his soulmate, the part of him that had made him _alive_. She'd seen what others couldn't see, had seen something worthy of her attention, of a broken… something, that dwelled in the shell of a human being known as "The Great Demon".

He'd been variously a member of the elite Guards formation, analogous to the role that the USMC and US Army Rangers played, combining their role as unconventional direct strike specialists, shock troops and raiders, and a commando, as well as a medic and close combat instructor during his original life in his home universe.

Having been in a strict environment, trained to be a professional military specialist since the age of 16, and a combat veteran with the rank of corporal first class by the time he was 21, he'd been abruptly posted as an instructor in BMT where he'd been well-liked by most of those under his command as well as his commanders. In fact, multiple commanders had recommended his conversion to become a commissioned officer, except for a single reason.

His status as an illegitimate heir to two great families, both of whom had powerful influence in the spheres of the government, military, civil service and corporate world had done him no favors. Several of his distant relations had seen to his constant struggle to rise in the ranks, fighting his promotions and attempting to sabotage him, whether by acts of character assassination or otherwise, denying him what was his by birthright and by his own efforts.

Eventually, by the age of 24, he'd ended up as a 1st Sergeant in OCS, and much to his chagrin, had been introduced to the concept of salsa dancing. In their attempts to convert youthful educated conscripts into 'gentlemen and officers', among the things taught to officer cadets closer to their graduation parade was simple; etiquette and dance.

Given that he was especially popular among the cadets, NCOs and officers of his wing, it had been to much laughter when the usually reserved instructor who could casually carouse with his fellows while off duty and laugh up a storm of jokes with his platoon, had stumbled over his feet in front of the entire wing while trying to perform a waltz with a _very_ attractive dance instructor.

This dance instructor had happened to be Grace Yap, fresh out of college with a finance degree and just returned to her home country of Malaya from London. And given the nature of love and soulmates, they happened to _click_.

In the aftermath of meeting her, Aziz was of the opinion that love was many things, but most of all, it was these; deaf, dumb, blind and fucking stupid. However, the heart wants, and needs to get…

**WWW**

As Terra leaned against the kitchen counter, innocently watching Garfield eat his toast, she heard a tap on the window.

Turning, she was shocked to see a youth riding a jetbike that hovered just outside her window, 30 levels up. Behind him was Cyborg, eyes shining as he contemplated the fact that he'd been promised the opportunity to include some of the tech from the jetbike in his own, as a incentive to meet some friends of his.

"Sorry Terra, that's my pickup. I promised I'd meet some friends of his."

Leaning in close to her, he pecked her on the cheek. "I'll be back," he said in a Terminator-esque that never failed to make her giggle, while she waved at Cyborg. The moment she caught Cy's eye, his electronic eye flared, as he leapt from the bike and barreled into her, giving her a big hug.

He'd always been the big brother to everyone on the team, being the eldest, the tin man with a heart of gold, and to see that Terra was truly alive, not a doppelganger as he had believed, was comforting beyond words. A small sense of mourning that had pervaded a corner of his heart since she'd allegedly died had lifted as he took her in, and his inevitable reaction, to get close to her. His subsequent hughad Terra hitting his back in a vain effort to stop him from crushing her with it.

The bike hovered there, as Aziz realized that for now, the lesson could wait. Family reunions tended to take time, after all.

**WWW**

Family was a theme that Blackfire could relate to. She'd always hated hers. Stripped of power that was rightfully hers, she'd always had to fight to regain what was hers by right of being the firstborn; by right of her royal blood. The affection that she had never had always passed on to her sister and younger brother.

She'd tried everything; she'd fought La'uraks as a pre-adolescent, with her bare hands, matching their wild savagery with her own rage, letting the pain of their bites drive her into a berserker rage, fighting on with suicidal disregard for her safety.

She'd been among the fastest Tamaranians, outperforming many of the professional athletes at the Royal Games; had been the most formidable combatants of her cohort, driving herself to absorb all the knowledge her instructors could teach her and then some, even at times defeating her instructors in sparring matches.

She'd protected her sister, always trying to be the exemplar of what and how a queen of Tamaran should be and act. She even… _loved_ Starfire, showing her affection and teaching her what she knew. She'd been in the first percentile in one of the harshest training grounds of the known universe, taught by the Warlords of Okaara.

She was the eldest child of the royal family, the first princess born in almost a century. As such she should have been courted and showered with honours, but Komand'r was instead reviled by an entire population who had hardly even known her, except as a princess… and never an empress.

On the day of her birth, the Gordanians attacked and destroyed the western Tamaranian city of Kysarr, killing three thousand citizens in her name, in a carefully orchestrated plot designed to split the Tamaranians into civil war and leave them as easy pickings to the Gordanians. The attack had turned Tamaran into a barren wasteland, ecological weapons destroying the once-lush tropical jungles that had spanned the planet from pole to pole, causing famine and wiping out a full 80 of the native life, including a full half of the Tamaranian population.

Due to no fault of her own, Komand'r was for all time inextricably linked with Tamaran's day of infamy. She grew up hated by a population that saw her as a symbol of their own weakness, complacency and decadence. They denied her birthright, refused to allow her to be named Princess of Tamaran and had stripped her of her right for its matriarchal throne.

That title, privilege, honour, and celebration was later bestowed on her younger sister, Koriand'r, known on Earth as Starfire.

Yet for all this she loved his sister, her family, had told herself that it was wrong, and had tried so hard.

However, as the years passed, and her sister was granted great honour and acclaim for performing feats that had not even matched those performed by Blackfire in her own search for recognition, the rage had grown inwards, finally culminating in the day when her sister had been granted release for her royal burdens, allowed to roam the galaxy and see its sights; sights that Blackfire could only dream of.

That was the day Blackfire had abandoned her species to its doom and sold her sister to the Gordanians, leaving the planet. And again, when she'd usurped the throne and made political moves that would have put even the most Machiavellian schemes of Lex Luthor to shame, granting her sister in sham marriage to some disgusting slug she had hired for the role, trapping Galfore into following an ancient law that had been written out the minute Galfore had become Emperor-Regent.

As she stared at the blue orb that was her sister's adopted home, rage seethed inside her.

_The things we do for the ones that hate us_.

With the escalating conflict between the Thanagarians and Gordanians, the Tamaranians had chosen to ally with the Thanagarians, the only political entity within a thousand light-years capable of resisting Gordanian aggression. The ratio between the Tamaranians and Gordanians was far too large, despite the superiority of Tamaranians in a straight physical fight. That, and the technical edge they employed, rendered the Tamaranians less than effective against the Gordanians. The Tamaranians could win in a planetary battle, but in space they were hopelessly outgunned and outmanoeuvred by a superior foe.

The Green Lantern Corps had been approached, but refused to intervene on the basis that operations in that area would infringe on the New Genesis and Apokoliptan spheres of influence.

Galfore had dispatched couriers to contact her and she had agreed to aid them in setting up an espionage network that could monitor Gordanian activity and sabotage it where necessary. Of course, for an exorbitant price that had made Galfore hesitate when she'd quoted it to his face. She'd made her way back to Tamaran, ignoring the order of exile placed upon her by her sister, to personally negotiate with Galfore about it.

With their parents dead and their younger brother, Ryan'dr (Wildfire) held hostage on the Gordanian capital world of Thrakis Mang, it left Starfire as the main rallying force for the scattered Tamaranian peoples – a unifying force that would unite them in their drive for liberation and survival in the face of the threat of invasion. She did it for herself, and for the money, nothing more or nothing less.

At least… that's what she told herself.

"_You're _scared,_ aren't you? Scared to be the last of your kind? That's why you do this. Even after all this time, you still __**want**__ to be accepted by them; by your people, don't you? It's deeper than your bones, deeper than your blood. What a hypocrite…"_

She refused to listen to the voice after a while. As far as she was concerned, it was useless, a unnecessary hindrance and an inner doubt. She especially refused to listen to the instinctive sensation at the back of her mind that told her it was essentially correct.

Stroking the head crest of her pet La'urak, Dick, whom she'd named after the attractive boyfriend of her sister's, she sat at the navigation console, the Thanagarian and Tamaranian crew resting in their quarters. She observed the landscape of Earth's moon where they rested then, hidden from the scans of Earth's military radar networks.

**WWW**

In Jump City, another young girl was being trained to fight, much like Blackfire had been in her youth. Only, the training wasn't as harsh, but was conducted by a person who was far more formidable and experienced than _any_ Warlord of Okaara. Eko, retired Marine Elite General of the Black Dragon Syndicate and the one charged with looking after the managerial and financial affairs of Aziz. In effect, his major-domo, and Anya's 'big brother' figure, excepting for the moment that he was at least a thousand years older than her.

"That's it girl. Another strike there. Put some spirit into it!"

Perspiring from every pore on her body, Anya slammed her palm heel into the pad harder, feeling the ache in her muscle grow with each strike. In a rapid sequence, she was forced to hit high, low and then at the abdomen, all the while forced to watch her footwork.

Suddenly, a blur of motion shot out and she tripped, before breaking her fall and sending her feet out in a sweep. She caught his leg and twisted, to no effect.

"My dear girl… unbreakable bones combined with superhuman strength generally does not make it easy to pull that off. Come on, take a break."

She grunted in pain, her feet sore from hitting him. It had been like hitting a diamond, and his calves were like tree boles, his thighs like the trunks of a sequoia redwood.

By any measure, he was a large man, built like a main battle tank and several times tougher. He also had the distinction of being among the few beings on the planet to have greater physical strength and invulnerability than even Superman and Captain Marvel combined. After all, one required countermeasures to such beings, and Marine Elites were trained to be living engines of destruction, just as Project Cadmus, even now in its infancy, was a countermeasure to the Justice League. Given the threats they faced and the numbers they faced it in, the abilities they gained were commensurate to the threat.

Anya tried to rise, but her muscles refused to respond, the hamstrings twitching in response to her mental demands. As she sipped electrolyte fluid from her bottle, she began to mentally curse as she realised that she had another half hour of this physical torture ahead of her.

Still… if this was what she had to go through to make Aziz proud, Anya was more than prepared to go through with it.

**WWW**

Bruce was enjoying himself. As the roller coaster rose to the top, the adrenaline began to surge through his body, but more than that was the primal boost at having an attractive woman clutching his arms like there was no tomorrow.

As it peaked, then began to roll down, Sophia began to scream, as did the rest of the riders. The only people _not _screaming were her bodyguards, who, quite notably, had fallen asleep. He looked back slightly and felt truly amazed that anyone could sleep through something like a roller coaster ride, or drop towers, topple towers, slingshots and the last log fume.

She had boundless energy, and he was feeling comfortable, the days here settling into a routine. He'd chosen to extend his stay by a fortnight for the purpose of conducting business with Creed Pharma, and to spend more time with Sophia if the situation allowed. Before long his nightly activities in Gotham, and at times in Bludhaven, would demand his attention.

As it was, Orpheus and Onyx were covering him, with much of the underground elements fighting it out in Bludhaven as they were pushed out by the internecine warfare that was ripping the heart out from their operations. Even the supervillains were beginning to have a hard time of it. The reduction in the importation of illegal narcotics and weapons into Gotham and Bludhaven was disrupting the hierarchy that had once existed, with formerly dominant suppliers reliant on external sources driven out of business, and domestic suppliers overwhelmed with demand.

This naturally resulted in inferior weapons falling into criminal hands. Not that the GCPD minded at all, given that many had been reduced to carrying out their crimes with the more basic weapons such as knives and crowbars. A criminal suddenly seems a lot less threatening when you can escape their striking distance just by taking a step back.

Still, the many assassinations occurring in the traditional strongholds of the organized crime was growing, and consolidation was starting to occur, with many cartels and triads forming alliances with the normally belligerent Russian Mob and Yakuza. The rise in the extrajudicial executions, for that was what they were, was beginning to worry him.

A greater force was pushing its agenda, and the silence behind the recent activities of the League of Assassins and League of Shadows was disturbing, a calm before the coming storm.

**WWW**

Raven considered.

Starfire and Robin were out seeing yet _another_ rom-com movie. He detested the light, fluffy atmosphere that prevailed throughout every single one of these 'chick-flicks', but nonetheless spent the grueling hours with Starfire, for her sake if nothing else.

The boys had gone off to some fight academy or something, if Aziz's brief goodbye was to be taken at face value.

That left Raven alone, with naught but the entirety of Titans' Tower in which to amuse herself. What to do, what to do…?

Well, not completely alone, of course. Aziz would never allow Raven to be unguarded, and so had left behind several cloaked Fedayeen droids which shadowed Raven's every move. They had been totally reprogrammed, Cyborg and Robin having taken great pains to ensure that there was absolutely nothing of their former coding left. In other words, Raven didn't exactly have to worry about any intrusions of a lethal nature.

_Time to pay a visit to my emotions. It's been some time._

She stared into the mirror, noticing her reflection begin to ripple as she was transported into her mindscape.

**WWW**

The only outsiders to have ever entered her mindscape were Garfield and Victor, but as she entered her mind she felt an entirely new presence; one that she had met previously and which provided something of a revelation.

Raven blinked once, then twice, as her jaw hung open. _He_ was the last person she was expecting to be among her emotions.

"Sorentho…what in the blazing hells are you doing here?"

"Exactly what I intended. I have my reasons for being here. Think of me as a… voyeur. I know what you know and know more than you could ever _hope _to know. I will of course, leave you to your privacy, but I have my reasons for being here. Just because I cannot interfere doesn't mean I cannot provide…outside information. You're a pawn in a game of chess, if you haven't guessed already, though this game of chess is vastly more complex. Think of a chess game with 13 dimensions to it, and you have a fair idea of what _could_ be going on. And please, call me Soren. My intimates, family and those superior to my position do, few as they are. You, I could consider… family, in a sense. You will realize all this later. After all, one cannot hide such things from me."

"Let me guess… oh, I know… Imperial… bloody… Ulthaj! Whatever that means…"

She shrugged. Both instinct and intellect told her what she already suspected. If he could infiltrate her mind, with all its psionic defences and mystical wards, reinforced through her daily meditations, undetected, then what could she do? Even her father would have been detected, and he was already enormously powerful.

Just then, Knowledge came to her, visibly agitated. Each aspect was represented by wearing a different colored robe: green for Brave, gray for Timid, pink Happy, Red for rage, orange for Rude, yellow for Knowledge, purple for Love, brown for Fear, and white which represented having full control over all emotions. Rage was notably absent, having retreated into dormancy ever since the entry of the Black Tiger into the Titans.

"I'm here to tell a story; of how you have your own story to fulfill, a special destiny, something that is not to be taken lightly. My father's story is as intertwined with yours as yours is with his. You cannot tell his story without you being involved, and his without you. Let me show you something. But first, you'd better deal with your friend over there," as he inclined his head in the direction of the agitated Knowledge.

**WWW**

"He's been here since that fight with your…our…our teammate."

Raven noted the hesitation. Was she teammates with him? Definitely. Did last night change anything? Yes. What were they now? _Totally and completely unsure_.

"He just came into our mind and he's been standing there the entire time. I mean, he's not looking at our memories or dreams, or anything like that. He's not a voyeur, that's for sure. And he respects our privacy. But he's just… doing nothing."

"Should that be a problem, Knowledge?"

"Y… yes. That, and there are new emotions. I mean, after last night, what did you expect?" as Knowledge's face blushed in response to the events of the night before.

"Lust and Passion. Those are our names. What we represent should be quite self-evident."

Raven's eyes nearly bulged out at the sight of Lust. Clad in all her glory, which was nothing much at all, was a vision of Raven whom she could only describe as radiating sexuality, dressed in sheer red lingerie, while her companion was Passion, clad in an elegant combination of an Azarathean gown that looked like a cheongsam combined with a cocktail dress that hugged every curve, showing them off to full effect. Either would have given any man a nosebleed.

In fact, they weren't far removed from some of the pictures on the 'net…

**WWW**

"I'll handle them later. Just keep them in your sight."

_Disquieted_ was exactly how Raven was feeling at the moment. So she had passion and lust as some of her emotions. What human didn't?

She turned her attention back to Sorentho, who'd stood quietly to the side. Glancing sidways at him, she realised then exactly how tall he was, towering over Cyborg even, who was already the tallest among the Titans at 6'6 (1.98m). Sorentho was lean, but the height of his frame added to his presence.

"My mother was extremely tall for a human woman. Just to demonstrate, the shortest matriarch in my family's history, when they do take a primal human form, is at least 2 metres tall, as one would measure it. As for my father, well, his height is variable, but height lies mostly in genetics rather than nutrition, but he was 2.2 metres tall as the Warmaster. Or hasn't he mentioned certain parts of his life to you? Well, in this human instrumentality of his , his most primal form, he'll grow to be about 184 cm. Respectable, by any degree. Of course, short people are by no standards _weak_ in comparison- look at your world's Deng Xiaoping, Gandhi, Stalin and Lenin. But I digress. Yes, I can read your mind, and no, you're not surprised I could. Anyway, I want to show you something."

As he walked by her side into the dreamcape of her mind, full of open space reflecting the skies of Azarath, a place where she had found great peace like none on Earth, the multicoloured stars blazing in all their remembered glory, they reached a portal, a vortex of tumbling energies that drew her to it, fathomless depths spiralling ever deeper inwards.

"Look closer, Lady Raven. What you see will be interesting for you, to say the least."

She leaned in closer, curious as to what she would see, before feeling a sudden tug, as if a powerful force had reached out and pulled her mind into it. Within moments, she was submerged, witnessing a dizzying array of images flash through the water.

**WWW**

_The youths chatted amiably, arguing amongst each other. The boy was the youngest, wielding a giant blade that seemed more like a slab of steel with sharp edges attached to a blade hilt, strapped to his back. The two girls were relaxed, sitting down amongst a lush garden, with several figures in the background. The place they were in seemed almost familiar to Raven, until she looked at the giant structure and realised it bore the symbol of the Justice League._

_The technology seemed far more advanced than anything she had witnessed since coming to Earth, and a trio of hovering figures were visible in the background, traffic making a visible detour around them. An insignia was worn proudly on their armbands; that of a black dragon of oriental design curling around a world, a star borne upon the dragon's head. If anything, they radiated power, and their attention seemed focused on one girl in particular, who had the bluest eyes…_

_Richard Grayson's eyes…_

_And…she looked just like…Raven…_

_All of them did. They had her straight lavender-black hair, an aquiline nose with a high bridge with eyes that reflected her violet hues, though they were many shades more brilliant. Yet something seemed extremely disturbing about the other two, as if some great tragedy pervaded their past._

**Born of the Raven Queen; Hope, an Angel of God & Primal Chaos. Bound together by blood undying, the siblings many, from destiny they are freed by an elder everlasting.**

_The words echoed in her mind. What t__hey meant she didn't have a clue, though she could see the metaphorical jaws closing together, the strings of space-time gathering together around her._

_As if speaking from a great distance, she heard Sorentho's voice; "Meet your children, Lady Raven."_

**WWW**

"Who is the father?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out. Besides, that is only one possiblity out of many. Oh… and they have different fathers."

Sorentho stared at her before slowly fading away, a whisper echoing in the winds of her mind.

"You shall face many struggles, Lady Raven. But you shall not face them alone. I will always be with you, in the darkest night of your soul or the shadows of despair and sorrow, bearing witness. You **must** face them alone and overcome them, becoming stronger than your father. You will not lose the battles in your mind, as long as I am with you. But neither shall I help you win, for only you can shape your destiny, by your choices and your actions."

As he disappeared from view, a sense of foreboding overcame her, and Raven knew deep in her gut that her uncertainty on an array of matters was about to be resolved.

Humans have come up with a saying that is true only half the time; 'Ignorance is bliss.' Although Raven had often thought of how wrong this sounded, especially considering how much joy knowledge had brought her, she decided that, this time, it could possibly be right.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**The Training Begins…**

**A/N: 21 & 22 were originally one large chapter, but I was advised to split the chapters. Anyway,21 & 22 were co-authored by me and Corvus Corvidae who is in my favourites list.Go and read his stories.Damn funny.22 is more or less a story by Corvus with me being the beta, a role reversal.Enjoy... **

**WWW**

Cyborg sat down with the others. Although he was by nature discrete, he couldn't help but let his eyes give Terra the once-over. She'd changed greatly, filled out in more ways than one. It was quite obvious why BB was attracted to her, and she to him. She found him funny, he found her vivacious and energetic, able to keep up with him, and humor strengthened and lengthened the life of a relationship. Why else was it common demand among women for their men to have a sense of humor?

Az was standing passively in the background, observing and watching. It is said that the normal human mind has seven memory registers; Aziz had at least this many streams of consciousness. Even so, what was running through them at that moment wasn't too complicated, although it was confidential.

_She was in my dreams, the vision of that future. She…is the mother of Garfield's children…his future wife…a princess. Garfield will have a happy future. He deserves it; after all they've gone through. All of them do. However…I should not be getting too close to them. I am fond of them, no doubt, but when I die, and I __**will**__die, things will change; things beyond my control._

His internal monologue ceased as he looked at the time and realized that he was using up his margin far too much for comfort.Just then, he heard BB mention something about growing up, how he was looking forwards to finally being legal for many things. Of course, among those things were sex, but since when did the law stop adolescents from engaging in it? From there, it kind of went on a tangent to how they wanted to be as adults.

Seeking to end it quickly, he interjected with some sage advice that Terra would herself impart to her own children; "_When you're young, you can only see ahead, but you should look around and see what kind of adults become happy and what kind of adults end up becoming unhappy._"

With a hurried goodbye, the trio loaded onto the jetbike and jetted off towards a meeting that had been planned long in advance. It was a meeting that would slowly but surely transform the two Titans at a mental and physical level, whether they knew it or not. _'Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis.'_ – 'The times change, and we must change with the times.'

**WWW**

"Alright, class dismissed. We'll begin early on Wednesday night." Sao Feng watched as the young girls and boys filtered out, picking up their bags as they left.

_These kids… they have plenty of spirit, but no discipline._

He'd just finished the morning class for teenagers, while his cousins had handled the adult classes and his assistant coaches Casimir, Damon "The Nip" Kazuaki and Iskandar Tian Wen managed the classes for children.

They'd recently changed the name of the academy to the Dalibor Fight School. Formerly the Buaya's Tooth Academy, they'd recently renamed it to the simpler Dalibor Fight School, a name derived from Slavic elements; _dal_ meaning "far away" and _borit_ meaning "to fight".

Sao was compact, layered with muscle, a man in his mid thirties, tanned and olive skinned. His cousins were Shoah and Steve, their mothers having all been sisters.

Shoah was the most mixed of the lot, having had a paternal grandmother who was a Slavic Jew with Bosnian ancestry. Steve Jap was brown like a seal, and could pass for being a Thai, Indonesian, Mexican, Nepali or otherwise. He was shortest of the trio but solidly built, strong as an elephant and built like a Scorpion tank, while Shoah was lean like a wolf and streamlined like an orca, the only natural predator of the great white shark.

They'd taken to closing the gym earlier than expected, in preparation for teaching a special class. All of them were indebted to Aziz, their loyalty and lives bought with the blood he had shed for them, when he had saved their lives at various points in time, or in the case of Steve, had restored his body from a crippling injury, restoring his ability to walk and function like any normal man. Sao Feng owed the lives of his children, wife and parents to him. Shoah owed the life of his mother and, indeed, his own to Aziz.

All friends of his, they had met him and been exposed to events no normal person would have otherwise experienced; to secrets that now defined their lives. They shared with him an ideal, a cause, for the greater good. They had seen how the world could be remade, and their choices had been made, just like Idimmu and Kassim before them.

Privately, Sao Feng sometimes wondered whether he'd made the right choice.

**WWW**

Sao Feng had served in the British Royal Marines in Kosovo, Sierra Leone and Afghanistan before resigning from the service. In Kosovo he ended up owing his life to the person he now knew to be the Black Tiger. Looking to be in his 20s then, Sao Feng had thought him to be a Serb rebel, only to find him responsible for the slaughter of entire companies of Serbs and Kosovars alike.

He'd come to be known as the Ghost of Kosovo, Wendigo, Gees, B'es and many other names by the UN and NATO peacekeepers assigned there, a lone revenant disappearing into the darkness of the remote mountains.

Entire companies of Serbs and Kosovar Albanian soldiers had cowered in fear of a revenant, exacting vengeance on both sides.

The Finnish soldiers had called _it_ 'Riivattu', or one controlled by evil spirits. The Royal Marines had taken to calling it 'Rakshas', a name drawn from the Telugu and Marathi languages of India. The Germans had called him 'Teufel' and the Croats 'Vrag'. All essentially meant the same thing; _Devil_.

**WWW**

**[6 April 1999**

The stale air of the complex filled his senses. His platoon searched the complex for any surviving Serbs. In the aftermath of the arrival of NATO troops in the region, reports had come in of a centre where countless Kosovar Albanian women had been systematically raped by Serb troops. It was part of the 'ethnic cleansing' efforts led by rogue officers of the Serbian military.

It was a directed effort on the part of the Serbs to dilute the ethnic purity of the Albanians, to break their spirit and create a generation of children who would always remind their mothers of the brutality they had suffered.

Of course, with NATO in the country, revenge attacks and atrocities were being committed by both sides; peacekeepers were stretched thin trying to prevent either from attacking the other. Personally, Sao Feng would rather have just executed most of the Serbs on sight and left it at that.

The stories he'd heard and the mass graves encountered had left him and his men with a bitter taste. If not for the Geneva Convention, they would have summarily executed most of the Serb officials they had captured

At the edge of his hearing, he heard a whimpering sound coming from a shuttered warehouse, and they went to investigate. What they found within horrified them. All that he had witnessed along the way towards the camps, all the reports, all the photographs, the mass graves, had not prepared him for the visceral reality.

The smell of semen, urine, blood and excrement met his senses, as he saw a girl, dressed in rags, bound to chains in the floor, groveling and retreating before him. Deeper inside, another woman, blonde hair matted with urine and shit lay dead, her bones showing through the skin, as did the lesions and scars that covered her body.

Some of his platoon broke down, while the rest grew visibly agitated. Even the warrant officer assigned to them, a lifer who'd served since the 1980's as an NCO in the Falklands Conflict, was visibly disturbed. A career military man who was normally good at hiding his emotions, his control failed him as his hand visibly trembled. He had a daughter about the same age as most of the victims in the camp.

Sao Feng continued on with his runner and a few volunteers, rifles at the ready as they proceeded. It was then that he found the perpetrators of the atrocity.

_Many were flayed, their skin hanging like ribbons of pink, a macabre scene as they fluttered in the breeze. The slow dripping of blood, from multiple orifices, violated by the very instruments they had used, added an undertone, a grisly melody beneath the scene._

_Some had even been strangled with their own intestines, while others had their ribs forced open, bones cracked beneath raw strength. Their hearts were hanging around their necks, ventricles twisted in knots._

_Sao Feng backed away slowly, eyes wide, the trembling turned into violent tremors. He collided with a body as he stumbled backwards, turning to meet its face, eyes gouged from their sockets and replaced with writhing maggots. Then, ever so slowly, its mouth cracked open in a low moan._

_It was then that the section withdrew. As far as they were concerned, the case was closed. The Wendigo had been through here._

Later, one of the few survivors, a man who'd gone insane form witnessing the horrors done to his comrades, had killed himself. All they had gotten out of him was a garbled message of a grey-eyed devil…

**WWW**

_I…am…Shafaq__The blood…of a million warriors flows in me, from the blood of ancient Sparta, of noble Persia, of Imperial Rome, of the nomad Jews, of the Israelis and Arabs, the Zulu, the Sioux, Imperial China, the samurai of ancient Japan, of the martial races of the British Raj… all humanity. _

_From all the peoples in my world I was descended, from the poorest pauper to the wealthiest aristocrat, from bloodthirsty murderers to the noblest philosopher-kings. From the furthest south of the world to the furthest north, from East to West and Centre, I am descended from all. Born for combat and bred for war, __**my home is the battlefield. My purpose… is your destruction.**_

_I was the Janthril Warmaster, the greatest one who ever was and who ever will be, and you __**will**__ not claim her_

Urenor withdrew from the vision, the temporal nexus boiling and frothing, as he witnessed his father die. Elder brother to Sorentho Raksa Janthril and the Grand Janthril Matriarch, Ghanima Deva'Raksa Janthril, he was the _first_ son, the _eldest_.

In all incarnations, in countless lives, he had followed his father's soul as a friend and companion. As the vagaries would have it, he ended up incarnating as his son. He found it somewhat comical, though not in any _human_ sense.

Despite godhood, one could at least _mimic_ the human template of thought, limited though it was. Yet sapient mortals liked to assign familiar qualities to their gods, to make them more understandable.

While they could be understood, only a fragment of that _truth_ could be understood. This was the purpose of religion – to attempt an explanation of the universe, and explain _a_ way to the _truth_. And the truth was a very malleable concept.

Human templates of thought, _sapient _templates of mental function were often woefully dependent upon clear paradigms, and thus conflict. Why else were so many conflicts fought?

Thus, by their choice, they maintained equilibrium. At the moment, the three siblings were gathered in location on the Earth that their father was on, for a simple conference.

**WWW**

In a café in Paris, by the River Seine, they were in conference, their minds conjoined. In their human forms, they looked much like their respective parents. Urenor had the green eyes of his paternal grandmother. Soren had the blue-shifted violet grey eyes of both parents, and Ghanima the amber-gold eyes of her mother, a green-grey tint hinting at her parentage. To the outside world, it seemed like a meeting between three art students from the nearby Universite de Paris.

Urenor stared impassively at his sister. The Grand Matriarch, she was a being who wielded astounding power in the physical realm, economic, political, social, religious, spiritual, military and otherwise, in a million megaverses and beyond.

The Grand Matriarch was both the spiritual, political and economic leader of the Janthril Dynasty and assorted families, such as the ever so human Sahar family, distant cousins who were the epitomes of what humans as a society and individuals _could _be, in any number of ways. The Sahar could trace their descent from the Atreides family, complete with the genetics and wild talent that entailed, and were among the noble families linked to the Janthrils, by blood, spirit and honour.

Each Grand Matriarch inherited her power, knowledge, wisdom and position from their mother, for only Janthril women gained the full measure of that power, a power that was the sum total of each preceding generation. They were nurturers and destroyers, mother to their diverse peoples that looked upon them as goddesses, inviolate in their divinity, savage in the defense of their children and judicious in their leadership.

This one had inherited the ruthlessness of the father, as well as the power of both parents. For her enemies, as much as her allies and those who served her, that ruthlessness was the surest sign of her parentage.

**WWW**

Urenor glanced at the group of buskers standing around in the shade and looking quite out of place. He favoured the Alash Covenant, a large pan-galactic empire that he had founded, and favoured using the troops as bodyguards, though he was quite capable of defending himself.

It was done on a whim, deciding in an instance to create a universe and bring in several sapient species under a single political entity, hence the Alash Covenant, Alash being the poetic name of Kazakhstan. Just for the sheer paradoxicality of it, he'd brought together infectious 'Flood', the Halo Forerunners, Necrons, Tyranids, Zerg, Protoss, Sangheili, Hiralhanae, Draenei, various derivative of elves, goblinoids, humanoids, artificial life forms, as well as a whole menagerie of ecospheres and biospheres into a single universe, with the appropriate physical laws to allow operation.

From universe to universe, physical laws and structure were different, with too large a difference being fatal at times, dependent on the being. Then again, many beings followed similar blueprints. Humans, for example, were a prolific species which followed a simple blueprint, courtesy of Khallusk. Of course, variants existed, but there was always a comparable baseline.

The resulting 'riot' had been incredible to say the least. Given that he was the focal point of worship of one form or another by several different species, he was enough to tenuously hold them together, as godhead and through occasional acts of divine force that utterly and totally destroyed the laws of physics and shattered worlds in the process.

He had been younger then, perhaps only a few hundred millennia, and he had been roundly reprimanded by his father for his callous disregard to the _lower_ life forms. He hadn't understood then, but knew better now.

Being at the highest tier, he could understand and witness the systems in place, or lack thereof that supported supernatural deities or natural deities. For many deities, mortals were like the bacteria in the human gut. A few thousand dead did not matter, but where large numbers were affected - the effects could be felt by the god or otherwise godlike entity in question.

It was complex to explain, and even if he could explain, it was at times too simple and too complex. That came from having an origin coming from a parent who was existence, unexistence, void, shadow, light and many more rolled into one. Sometimes, actions spoke extremely silently compared to words.

The buskers were a group of Spartan-1 human augments, genetically augmented at the germline level, meaning that their augments were hereditary, with enhanced muscular density, stamina, senses, agility and retarded aging.

While not quite superhuman, they were at a threshold 25 beyond a baseline human Olympic athlete in terms of physical and physiological prowess, as far as medical science could determine. Essentially their bones were ossified to be harder and denser; their muscle tissue was enhanced to be denser and produce less lactic acid, increasing muscular strength and endurance while their eyes had undergone submergence and boosted blood vessel flow beneath the rods and cones of their retina. Meanwhile their neural dendrites had undergone chemical augmentation, vastly enhancing their reflexes.

Still, nowhere near as lethal as the Onraedi Sable Thorns that Sophia kept though.

WWW

_So, our dear parent is becoming a 'cradle-snatcher', as the humans term it. He's taking on with a female young enough to be his descendant over a million generations. I mean, she's 16 after all, and even in this adolescent physicality, he is chronologically with access to over a millennia of memories, even dormant and sealed. _

_# One cannot blame him, sister. He is after all reliving his adolescence in a sense. By your command, or perhaps request, I denied him his memories and weakened the seals. His reaction was typical. He sought to seal the power even further, and he is a borderline human. Even now, he ages at the same rate as the Raven Queen. #_

_Urenor remained silent, as he listened to a butterfly's heartbeat in Africa. Without so much as being conscious about it, he shifted a few amino acid sequences in the fetus in a womb somewhere in South America, gifting the individual with extreme luck at a genetic level. The reason was to em'self to know._

_Urenor._

_Yes, little sister?_

_Have you done what I have asked?_

_I think I speak for both of us, Soren and I, when we say that your actions are excessive and much too interfering. There is surely no need to push Onraed and Rugal Al-Ilham to such actions. Even by our perception, that is inflicting something on father unnecessarily. He has suffered enough. If the Raven Queen is involved, then perhaps, but do as you wish. We will neither aid you nor stop you. After all, at most, we will simply erase this universe and start over somewhere, but you know the consequences with father involved don't you little sister?_

_Very well. I'll perform the function myself. However, I am worried about the humans in particular, the ones in the 'second wave' employed by Azaluhaiz. They are wildcards, concealed from time and oracles by father's will. They…are intriguing. Perhaps they will not be like the others, whose fate is that of doom. For all who are within father's lay, their destiny is tied to his, and his he allows to be tied to the Raven._

**WWW**

Kazuaki was a Sports Chanbara instructor, a free-style Japanese combat sport which originated from Kodachi Goshindo (Self-defense with short sword). It used the short sword (Kodachi), long sword (Choken) and other traditional Japanese weaponry, such as the dagger, spear (yari), halberd and long and short staff. As an armed combatant further trained in Kendo and Makila, he was a superb fighter that few dared to confront.

Many an inattentive student had learned to their misfortune that he did not take kindly to a lack of fighting spirit and honour in a fight. To complement this proficiency in his armed skill, he possessed a 2nd Dan Black Belt in Krav Maga and was an Aikido 4th Dan. Lean like a predator with catlike reflexes, many a female student had suffered hidden crushes and increased heart rates upon witnessing him in action. Unfortunately for them, he was taken.

In contrast to him was Tian Wen. Trained in MMA, Muay Thai, Lethwei, Keysi and AMOK, his personal fighting style was rather more confrontational and lacking the finesse of his counterpart. His strategy was to make a frontal assault with overwhelming force and break the opponent apart with elbows, knees, fists and whatever else was available, if they managed to survive the initial strike. He was generally more cunning than he was given credit for.

It was not that he couldn't plan or fight with finesse, which he was more than capable of. He simply liked to cut loose, in essence, go berserk. His style was adaptable but with one constant; sheer power and brutality, like a tsunami that broke upon all in its path. There was much to say for the merits of either. Of course, in tournament, like many others, his was more approaching that of a dance. He also happened to be a formally-trained dancer.

Aziz had something particular in mind for Robin, and specifically it involved Tian Wen. It seemed that for all his tactics he did not seem to have that killing edge, and he planned to introduce him to that. If one person could inculcate that in him, it was Tian.

Tian had once fought Az and won (on points), though in the process suffering a concussion and having to be stretchered to the nearest hospital. He'd never gotten to repeat that act. Still, a significant feat, though a 2nd victory (also by points) involved Damon, Tian and Sao assaulting him at the same time. Suffice to say, they had elected not to spar with him using Vale Tudo rules thereafter.

Kazuaki on the other hand was assigned to Raven as her weapons master. Aziz had many plans for Raven's education. He'd managed to requisition a former general under his command and a powerful sorceress the equal of Circe, Tara, to join him, though he held his reservations. She'd often pursued him as a breeding partner and lover, but all he had ever extended was friendship. With Tara, there was the possibility of… _conflict_.

His intent was simple; have Raven train and indirectly have a role model, an example of a leader who could take hard decisions. After all, that was what Tara excelled at.

Many do not distinguish between a leader and a ruler or commander, which is unfortunate because they are in fact very different. A leader, as the saying goes, 'knows the way, shows the way and _goes_ the way', whereas a ruler would simply tell his or her subordinates to do it all by themselves. A leader is one of the group and understands their troubles, meaning that they are only slightly more than equal.

As such, a leader has to have foresight and a degree of ruthlessness to make hard decisions where necessary, instead of pandering to populist masses that may not have the 'big picture'. Then again, there was a thin line between being a tyrant and a leader who could make hard decisions…

**WWW**

Raven stared hard at the emotions assembled before her, disquieted and quite lost as to what to do. So she had children in the future. It shouldn't really have been a surprise. Normal people found a partner, married and had children. All very normal and mundane… except for the fact that she was an _abnormal_ human living an_abnormal _life, in a family unit that was certainly _not_ normal, under daily circumstances that would not be imagined normal by any being in the universe that claimed itself to be normal.

_No. My life is __**not**__ normal._

Therein lay her biggest stumbling point. She was the half-demon daughter of a demon lord, allegedly prophesied to be some sort of saviour and messiah to the world, with a bodyguard who'd quietly waltzed into her life and whom she'd slept in the same bed with, and who was somewhat human but not quite. She had emotions that physically manifested and which in the past had given her much grief, and she had a volcanic temper, again courtesy of her blood.

So why did it disturb her so much with the revelation that she had children, especially a daughter with eyes so much like Robin's? _It doesn't mean anything. It could be a recessive gene, or I could end up with some guy who has blue eyes or…_

Knowledge interrupted her thoughts with a clearing of her throat. "Do you want to deal with Lust and Passion now?"

Raven looked up and nodded in confirmation. Already, a tic had developed in her forehead from annoyance. "Where are they?"

"With Rage."

'I might have known.'

**WWW**

Joy giggled with glee as she read Knowledge's books along with Lust and Passion. Most disturbingly, even Rage was smiling, with a flushed expression on her face.

The minute Raven appeared, Joy launched herself at her. "Rae-rae, I always _knew_ you had it in you." She giggled then turned back to reading her book. Absorbed as they were in it, Raven had to know what had even Rage looking like she did. Peeking over Joy's shoulder, the words that she read made her blood run cold.

_Slowly, ever so exquisitely, Robin nibbled at her neck, licking and nipping the pulse point. Her heart raced, as she anticipated his actions. She felt his hardness through the cloth, ready to be sheathed in her temple of pleasure. She was prepared, on the verge of excruciation, to accept him into her, her inviolate temple of passion. Slowly, he moved down, licking the nectar of her womanhood from her legs in slow whirling patterns, as he…_

With a shriek, she tore it from Joy's hands and incinerated it. To her horror, it reappeared, whole and untouched, in Passions's hands.

"You can't destroy something that exists in your dreams, my dearest girl. Besides, you should see the video action of that particular fantasy. You were certainly enjoying yourself. I mean, _I _certainly enjoyed it."

She spluttered, staring in abject horror as the foursome went back to perusing the book. Just then, Knowledge came up. Turning on her, she grabbed her by the shoulders and, in a restrained voice, spoke very slowly, emphasizing each and every word.

"Where. Did. Joy. Get. That. Book?" she demanded, the last word coming out as a choked snarl. Knowledge pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her trademark reflex action, before escaping from Raven's grip.

"Raven, whatever dreams or memories you have, I store them all. I remember them. I'm _Knowledge…_ you know. As for where she got it, well, I…lent it to her. She kept on pestering me so long that I just had to give her something to shut her up. Besides, it keeps Rage occupied and allows Courage to take a break and not always be on guard."

Rage interjected in a surprisingly pleasant tone; "Don't blame her, Raven. Given that you suppress me, hell, I need to pass the time, and with Aziz around I'm not showing myself, for a damn good reason. Besides, the ones I find most entertaining are the most recent ones of you and him. He may scare me, but he's…demonically hot. Look at him! And you should read this one. Heh. You'll really like this one, after all. It's one of your more recent dreams."

A scroll of parchment appeared before her, and the blue lettering, written in her hand, captured her eyes.

_She was pulled flush against him, her breasts pressed against his chest. He growled lightly, ravishing her mouth and neck, treating her swollen lower lip like a delicacy, as he dipped his tongue within, to taste her. She reached out her own tongue in response but he stopped her, instead pulling on it with his tongue and rubbing her tongue tip with his own. She felt his movement within her, his blade sheathed within her womanhood. _

_A slight movement on his part angled in and sent arcs of atomic fire radiating through her, as he ground into her, making her g-spot rub against his manhood, the bud of her heavenly delight suffering a wonderful friction as it rubbed against his skin. Nestled in his arms, her legs wrapped around him, she screamed into his shoulder, biting down until she drew blood, and then, slowly, she began to drink…_

Raven turned a look on Knowledge. Knowledge knew well of the Eye of Sauron, and Raven's gaze at this point reminded her implicitly of same. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a pitiful whining noise as she struggled to come up with words. All stood in silence for a pregnant minute.

Raven laughed hysterically and walked away without so much as another word, intent on leaving the madness behind. She'd had quite enough for one day.

As they looked on, Knowledge was glad that they hadn't mentioned the ones involving Robin, Beast Boy and Aqualad. At the same time. Not to mention Terra, Starfire and Jinx… also at the same time.

Knowledge sometimes wondered why Raven had bothered personifying her emotions. If she had done it with the idea that it might make them easier to understand and control, then Raven's Knowledge was probably a lot closer to Stupidity.

**WWW**

Cyborg went flying into the rubber-matted wall and collapsed in a heap on the floor below. Beast Boy joined him shortly after.

"Now tell me, what mistakes were made?" sounded the clear voice of Sao Feng, as he offered his hands to both.

"Um, we followed Aziz here?" replied BB, as he tried to lighten the situation.

"No…" said Sao, in the dangerous tones of one who has just thrown his students against a wall and can easily do it again.

"Yeah. What?" Cy was still stunned at being thrown by a man who was by all rights shorter and lighter than him. Even Robin couldn't throw him around like that, let alone lift his 300 kg bulk.

"Remember fighting Atlas? Well, all you did was to pit raw strength against raw strength. Damn foolish if you ask me. Before you criticize me, I'll tell you straight out, in case Az hasn't told you. Yeah, I served in the Royal Marines, and yeah, I don't really fight superhuman combatants like any of you guys, but I know a thing or two about fighting, and all you did was try and overpower him. To what end? You knew he was stronger and while you did triumph in the end, it was still a waste of energy, albeit an excellent display of fighting spirit."

Cyborg tried to come up with an answer, but couldn't. As he opened his mouth, trying to form words, Sao Feng stopped him.

"To your credit, you have fighting spirit, more than the average guy, and a hell of a lot more than some of the Marines I served with, given your exploits. You know how to fight, and I give credit where credit is due. What Aziz told me to teach you is simple; principles of fighting and some mental conditioning, so that you can fight instinctively and keep your cool at the same time when in hand to hand combat. You're a cyborg, so what I'll teach you are some basic moves. From the vids I've seen of your fights, you're often up against opponents who are at least as strong as you, so sometimes there's no point using strength against strength unless you're a crazy bastard like some people." At this, he gave a glance to Wen.

"Anyway, you were a former athlete from what I gather, so I'll teach you some MMA moves and groundfighting, like Brazilian Ju-jitsu or Judo. Basically, in a one-on-one fight, if you bring it to the ground and know what tactics to use, you can use an opponent's strength against him. Basically, we'll concentrate on takedowns and joint locks for you."

Sao Feng knew what Aziz was trying to teach them, to make them more cunning. He already had his hands full with other tasks, specifically with plans for the Raven Queen. Not that Sao knew of _that_. He simply chose loyalty. As much as he doubted him at times, that trust had _never_ been misplaced. He was a man who kept his promises.

"As for you…" Sao Feng said as he turned to address BB, who waited raptly. Robin had taught him some basic moves, but if anything, Gar simply didn't have that drive, as well as the fact that he disliked having to actually _hurt_ his opponents. He was more of a happy-go-lucky guy, easygoing and preferring to idle. He wasn't lazy when it came down to it, but as he had once told Terra; "I just try my hardest not to do anything."

With BB, Sao had a simple solution. It was a martial art that emphasized neutralizing ones attacker without harming them; aikido. Though the way it was taught by Damon, with inclusive Krav Maga techniques, made it a much more effective system that one would expect.

**WWW**

"You want me to learn aikido?" came the incredulous reply as he talked to Damon.

"Mm-hm. Think about it; you can change into any animal. Imagine yourself as a gorilla."

"Uh… okay," said Garfield, wrapping his head around the concept.

"Now imagine yourself as a gorilla that knows aikido."

The image that came to Garfield's mind was so ridiculous that he couldn't help but chuckle. But as he looked back at Aziz, he stopped. The slight grin on his face was a predatory one, as if about to enjoy biting down on a piece of fresh meat.

"When do we start?" came BB's reply. His inflection, the intonation, surprised Aziz. He had been expecting resistance to the idea from Garfield, but the undertone of eagerness he heard was surprising, to say the least.

Aziz simply nodded before inclining his head to Damon. With a grin, Damon turned to face his newest pupil.

"There's no time like the present."

**WWW**

As they left the cinema hand in hand, Robin and Starfire disguised through the liberal use of image inducers that projected a solid light hologram millimeters of their skin, concealing their identities, Starfire moved closer to him and nuzzled his cheek.

Instead of the usual rom-com, Starfire had decided to instead see a Thai horror movie called 'Alone', which involved Siamese twins. To say the least, Robin had a field day as Starfire had shrieked at all the right moments and jumped into his lap, even at the cheap scares. There had been several times where he'd quite literally had to hold her down, when she'd nearly given them away by leaping into the air in fright.

After having a few dates in costume Robin had wisely decided to go in disguise, given the fact that they were constantly mobbed by fans and paparazzi. Dressing in normal clothes _could _have worked. That is, if Starfire happened to look a little more human.

Things had finally come to a head when a paparazzo had interrupted a romantic and rather private moment between them. To say the least, they'd chosen to use image inducers to protect their identities thereafter.

As they exited the cinema, they suddenly _heard _the silence of the city as military jets roared overhead. Visible high in the sky, at the furthest edge of vision, was a single frigate of Gordanian design, bearing the emblem of Blackfire, the snarling head of a La'urak skull.

"Komand'r…" Starfire slowly whispered, as her eyes flared a furious green. In an instant, she had thrown herself into the air and with a roar, shot towards the cruiser, image inducer dropping its holographic guise in an instant. Robin retreated into an alley and deactivated his own, sending out a call to all Titans.

Robin wasn't quite sure, but he was willing to bet a substantial sum that Blackfire had some kind of uncanny knack for knowing when he and Starfire were trying to 'develop' their relationship.

**WWW**

_The gods have, since ancient times, created methods to test humans. The Presence, a being many know as Allah, or Yahweh, or even the Holy Trinity, or by countless names like Brahma, Shiva, are all simply emanations of a being that many mortals can only see a mere shard of. It has created…has designed…a system…it opposes all living creatures and splits the world. It condemns entities to roles. _

_The beings of Heaven pretend they can't see the suffering of the people, of mortal and physical immortal alike. Only the lucky few find the way. The pain of those beings reaches deep into my heart. I want to counter this discrimination and extend my aid. In order to do that, the only thing that can be done is to create a new system! _

_See... this is what God has wrought…why Lucifer Morningstar, reviled as Satan and Shaitan and the Great Adversary by so many, rebelled in the first place against his parent. I cannot allow such a system to continue! This is the will of my quarrel with Heaven. I would like you to come with me, to follow the path I tread. If I had your help, even the weak-of-heart could have their wishes fulfilled. So that everyone can be equal and devoid of suffering, I wish to reach out. Do you accept?_

The Lord Imperial stared out at the assembled masses before him, of countless mortal species and those of supernatural origins, werewolves side by side with grigori and ancient beings originating from the very edges of the universe, multidimensional and pseudonatural creatures that dwelt beyond time itself and the regular planes of existence, living forever in a state of seeming insanity.

Slowly, on psionic and mental levels, a great buzzing began. It gradually changed into a deafening roar as the countless rulers of the disparate groupings applauded, for here was a being, an entity of power who could lead them to their rightful place, their manifest destiny as peers among mortals. Here was a being they could respect, who could command respect.

_A being whose greatest weapon was the truth and the ability to deceive and lie, for one who could lie with the truth or tell the truth of lies was a terrible foe indeed._

In the background, Ahriman and Gurenon noted the charisma with which Jorgumander spoke. He had come far since they'd adopted him. Each of the Triumvirs of the Society had their own agendas, but regardless, they'd grown fond of their Lord Imperial, whose destiny was a great one indeed. All that stood in their way was the Raven Queen. Yet little did they know that all of them were pawns in a greater plan by a force beyond even them…

**WWW**

_Pawns. They're all pawns to me, even you father…one of the few entities I consider my peer, among the few I can respect. Why do you force me on this path? _

The Grand Matriarch strolled past the Eiffel tower, pondering the questions in her mind. Once, she'd been asked the questions as well, a testing of her capacity. She'd inherited the power of her parents, the sum total of wisdom and knowledge of countless former Grand Matriarchs running through her.

She'd had to fight off countless cousins, countless other matriarchs, for her lineage was of the purest line, direct in descent and purity from Mogathor em'self, her furthest ancestor and the first Grand Matriarch, the founder of the Janthril dynasty.

The questions that had tested her were simple yet profound, and soon, her father would have to undergo the Final Question, just as the Raven Queen had her four stages to undergo as she ascended to her destined place. First she had to lose whatever Innocence she had left then she would suffer the Truth, understand Mercy, and finally…experience Regret.

As for her father, his question was far more simple, yet all the more damaging; _Who are you?_

Neither male nor female or anything in between, yet embodying it, different entities perceived her as they desired. Humans saw her as an angelic being of decimating beauty, demons saw her as a paragon of their kind, yet all in all, paradox defined her and transcended her, she to it in turn.

_Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Yet you among all father, you resisted and transcended that. Now you waste your existence, trying to empower through destiny a single demigod in a minor universe of negligible importance, as important in the grand scheme of things as the loss of an electron of an atom is to me. You will awaken, you know I force it upon you, yet you wonder why and fight it. Of all things, are you so scared of transcending to that final instrumentality that you deny your truest nature? _

Confusion and paradox for a god, for a being transcendent beyond godhood, was an unwelcome thing indeed. Yet here she existed in a detachment of being, her name Celia Reyes, and she had work to do. First things first, she had to see Amanda Waller. After all, in a complex tapestry, all it took was to undo the right thread or thread in the right sequence, and everything fell apart. _Which was exactly what she wanted._

**WWW**

Accelerating to supersonic velocities, Raven barely managed to keep up with Starfire. Without a doubt Starfire was the physical powerhouse of the Titans; though she didn't look it, she could lift twice as much as Cyborg could and was the toughest and fastest member of the entire Titans roster, her only other match possibly being Red Star. Her strength's upper limit alone was gauged at 50 tons. During sparring sessions, they'd often fought to near-standstills, though one could sense that both were holding back. Even in practice, Starfire was a gentle soul who disliked injuring her opponents.

However, in the case of Blackfire, especially after the betrayal on Tamaran, and the revelation that it had been her who'd sold Starfire to the Gordanians as a slave… such restraint did not apply.

Overhead, the ship had withdrawn to the thermosphere. Raven would soon have to withdraw for lack of air. Only Starfire was capable of surviving in the vacuum of space amongst the entire team. Several kilometers below her, the Titan Quinjet lanced into the atmosphere, piloted by Robin, followed by the aptly named Sky Blue, the variously labeled jet/hover/bike/cycle of the Black Tiger.

Given the thermosphere laid between the maximum altitude for aircraft and the minimum altitude for orbital spacecraft of human origins, this region of the atmosphere was only accessible to advanced aerospace craft of non-human design or experimental military-grade aerospace craft such as the USAF Aurora or Justice League Javelin.

As such the cruiser was beyond the range of conventional military anti-air defences, explaining the lack of pursuit on the part of the USAF. After the September 11 incident, America had become rather paranoid about suspicious aircraft in its airspace. With non-human spacecraft, their paranoia verged on frothing hysteria.

**WWW**

Cyborg maintained their approach vector, as he activated the ECM (Electronic Counter-Measures) and ECCM (to counter any ECMs the enemy may have had), prepared for evasive actions, in the event that the cruiser should fire on them.

Blackfire had returned, after all this time. Her presence was never a good sign for anyone, but especially for Starfire. Blackfire seemed to possess a pathological hatred bordering on psychosis toward her sister, whom she'd shown constant disdain for, even during the few times Starfire had tried to make friendly overtures.

He looked out the cockpit and noticed Az on the jetbike as it quite literally slammed its way through the atmosphere, accelerating at such a rate that he was probably experiencing g-forces in excess of 30g's. Humans could survive about 20 to 40 g's instantaneously, with values of a 100 g's or more being lethal, and the record being 179 g's of acceleration. A cone of friction heated air had formed at the front of the jetbike, making it look as if a comet was heading towards space from the planet.

From the time spent, Cy estimated that he'd somehow managed to endure upwards of 70g's for several minutes, probably from the new armour referred to as a Shafaq-model armour suit. He'd pulled out of storage from the Dalibor Academy, where he seemed to have a modest cache of equipment and weapons stored. Again, he had demonstrated access to resources and personnel the Titans still had to know of. Of course, by extension, he was opening up access of those resources to them.

_Trust. He's trying to gain our trust._

Within seconds they'd reached Raven, while Starfire was three quarters of the way to the cruiser. As she hopped into the cockpit, gulping in breaths of desperately needed air, she looked out at her bodyguard and gave him a thumbs-up. He nodded, before accelerating towards Starfire.

**WWW**

Her eyes flaring a violent green, hands crackling with suppressed energy, Starfire floated in front of the cruiser, the thin atmosphere no hindrance to her. Somehow, it all seemed wrong. She'd come prepared for a fight, raw anger surging through every fibre of her being, yet the cruiser was not reacting with hostility at all. It had simply moved out of range of human weapons systems and maintained a geostationary position.

None of its weapon systems were activated; even the point defence weapons that studded the hull were passive. As she stared at the enormous cruiser, Starfire cursed her moment of anger. Without thinking, she'd simply gone straight up against a vessel with enough firepower to destroy her, simply because she'd seen her sister's emblem.

From the bow of the large cruiser, roughly a mile along, a recognizable figure appeared, exiting from an airlock. Clad in her normal attire, she regally floated toward her sister, accompanied by a retinue of Thanagarian guards.

Clenching her fists in restrained anger Starfire hissed her sister's name, putting all her anger and hate into it as she punctuated every syllable. It was surprising to think that a normally so effervescent individual as Starfire could be so resentful. Still, the halo's only there 'cause it's held up by the horns…

"**Komand'r…"**

"Hello, little sister," said Blackfire, condescending as ever and sneering smugly. "Long time no see."

Without hesitation, Starfire flew at her elder sister, letting the collected star bolt energy blast into her; at least, where she should have been a split second before. She turned her head only to have her face slugged with the full strength of a Tamaranean behind it, before she felt her right arm twisted. With a powerful wrench, Blackfire_twisted_, and her shoulder gave way, cleanly dislocating. She screamed.

"Pathetic." Blackfire's typical reply to any of her actions, no matter what she did, how she did. It was never good enough for Blackfire.

Fighting back the agony she head butted her sister, drawing blood and breaking the soft tissues of her nose. Of course, that would heal fast enough. Rage directing her actions, Starfire simply went berserk as she used her other hand to get Blackfire in a vise-like grip around her throat and pressed down hard, choking off the blodd supply. Blackfire sent a powerful hammerfist slamming into Starfire's inner elbow, but her grip remained, tenacious like a pit bull.

A blood choke or carotid restraint was a chokehold that compressed one or both carotid arteries and/or jugular veins without compressing the airway, hence causing cerebral ischemia and temporary hypoxia (inadequate supply oxygen) of the brain. Regardless of who you opponent was, a well applied blood choke lead to unconsciousness in 4-10 seconds. Tamaraneans shared a similar enough anatomy and genetic structure to humans to have the same situation occur to them.

Using her legs, Starfire tucked her legs toward her chest and slammed both feet against her sister's face, using the momentum to propel her away from her. The spray of blood that came from the damaged tissues froze into a mist of droplets in the air, as Blackfire slowly recovered, her tongue dipping out to lick the dried blood dripping from her ruined nose.

Both sisters stared across the gulf between them, the Thanagarians refusing to interfere. After all, when two rampaging elephants were locked in battle, the grass got trampled, and only the strong baobab or acacia survived.

Through the thin atmosphere, she heard Blackfire's voice, amplified by a speaker, her statement simple and direct in their native tongue; "αδελφή, πρέπει να μιλήσουμε. αδελφή, πρέπει να μιλήσουμε. Δεν ήρθα εδώ να παλεψω (Sister, we need to talk. I did not come here to fight.)

"Και γιατί είναι αυτός? (And why is that?)" Starfire glowered, awaiting her sister's reply.

"Το Galfore με έστειλε για να σας φέρει κατ' οίκον Είμαστε τώρα στον πόλεμο με το Gordanians και το έθνος μας σας χρειάζεται."

As she heard the reply, she knew in her heart that this wasn't one of her sister's lies, couldn't be.

Just then, her team arrived, the TitanJet arriving with all canons prepared to fire, while Sky Blue rose by Starfire's side, the Black Tiger holding dual OCI Misriah Armouries M6D pistols in either hand, black technology not of this universe, gauss cannons on the jetbike tracking multiple targets. The weapon used a set of magnets to propel a 25mm slug of depleted uranium at high speeds.

Suffice to say, the raw mass and great speeds of the projectile was the key to its stopping power and performance, sufficient to kill even Starfire with a single hit. Starfire made a cutting motion, as he holstered his pistols and deactivated the cannon, his armour returning to its passive sable colour.

For now, they would parley.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**Blackfire**

**WWW**

Robin saw Starfire draw close and fixed on an oxygen mask to open his cockpit. His girlfriend may have been able to bypass breathing up at altitudes like this and beyond, but Robin wasn't quite so hot on the whole asphyxiation thing.

"What is it, Star?" he asked, his voice muffled by the mask.

"My sister wishes to talk with me," said Starfire, looking back at the ship. Blackfire was hovering outside it with her Thanagarian escort, staring at them superciliously.

"Star, this has 'trap' written all over it," said Robin urgently, rising from his cockpit seat. "You mustn't-"

"I must," said Starfire, giving Robin a look. There was suddenly an edge of cold steel to her usually mellifluous voice.

"But it could be dangerous!" Robin protested.

"Yes, it could, but this is something I must do," she answered, her tone flat and uncompromising. "Galfore is dying, Robin. My… my _people_… are dying."

Robin faced Starfire wordlessly for a while. The normally effervescent alien girl was now dour and conspicuously lacking in her natural exuberance; her hands, which were so often clasped together in girlish excitement, now hung at her sides, drawn into fists.

"So if you need to talk to Blackfire about this so badly, why are you asking me first?" Robin queried.

"Because I want you to come with me," said Starfire. Robin saw anxiety beneath the steel façade.

"Alright, but get me inside the ship quick – I don't want to take my chances with the atmosphere up here." After having given the rest of the team a quick précis of the situation and some standard 'stay behind and guard' orders, Robin nodded to Starfire.

She whisked Robin out of his seat and across to Blackfire's ship. Out in the middle of the great stretch of air between the two ships where nobody could hear, Starfire spoke a single word under the torrent of wind, just loud enough for Robin to hear.

"Thanks."

Robin smiled at Starfire.

"There's no other girl I'd do it for."

**WWW**

'_I shouldn't let myself get so cocky._ _That's what lost me my title as Empress during the whole Jewel of Charta debacle. Is it just me, or is my little sister suddenly a lot more… well… vicious? Perhaps brutal is the word for it. Either way, she's improved…'_ thought Blackfire moodily, touching her nose to see if her metahuman healing-rate had finished reconstructing it. It hadn't, and she winced in pain; the human nose contains many nerves to facilitate the olfactory senses and Tamaranians are no different.

Dick the La'urak bent all his six legs and leapt up onto the bridge's table and holographic display at which Blackfire was seated. He skittered over the plexiglass to Blackfire, making a short litany of clicking noises as his claws clattered over its surface. Dick made an odd hissing noise when he sensed the residue of blood on his mistress' face. It had been wiped clean, but blood is to a La'urak as aniseed to a dog; even one molecule of it on the air is enough to set them off.

Blackfire was just about to dismiss him when the double doors to the bridge slid open. Blackfire looked up and Dick the La'urak turned around to see; a lengthy and complicated process when you have six legs.

"" the Thanagarian guard announced.

"" Blackfire answered irritably. "" The guard bowed respectfully to Blackfire and left Starfire and Robin in the bridge, locking the door behind them.

Starfire stared edgily at Dick the La'urak. He was nowhere near as large as the mutant that had almost swallowed her whole in earlier life, but arachnophobes never discriminate on grounds of size.

"" Blackfire started. Robin cut her off.

"We prefer this conversation to be held in English," he said, less than cordially.

"What's this?" asked Blackfire mockingly – but it was weary, as though trying to get some kind of pleasure out of this unnecessary torment simply to relieve the boredom. "Has my sister not taught you our language?"

"And I would also like it if that… _thing_ was removed," said Starfire, standing straight-backed and broad shouldered, trying to keep the shiver out of her voice. "You know how I feel about those, sister."

"Yes, I do," said Blackfire, smirking. "You once slept together with me because you were afraid of the La'urak in your nightmares."

"Just. Remove it," said Robin, almost excessively tersely. Blackfire stared at him, long and hard. Not finding any cracks which she could wheedle at, Blackfire relented.

"Very well," she acceded. "Dick; back to your kennel." Clicking its mandibles at Starfire one last time for the intimidating effect it had, Dick the La'urak scuttled off.

"You named it after me?" Robin asked, understandably repulsed by the idea; the La'urak is not famed for being one of the most pretty creatures in existence.

"That particular La'urak happens to be particularly attractive, by the standards of their race," said Blackfire conversationally. "He has sired a few others already."

"Get to the point, sister," said Starfire brusquely, taking the seat opposite Blackfire at the round holographic table. "You did not come here to talk about meaningless things."

"Nor did I come here to fight, yet you seemed happy enough to oblige," Blackfire retorted pointedly.

"…Perhaps I was… somewhat rash," Starfire admitted. "But please; tell me of Galfore, and the others. What has happened in my absence?"

Robin sat down next to Starfire and was surprised to find Blackfire abruptly fixing her younger sister with a glare of such malevolence and lethal intent that one felt the air between them ought to burst into flame.

"I would not call it 'absence'," she growled ferociously. "_'Desertion'_ describes your selfish acts much more succinctly."

"Desertion? _Selfish?_" asked Starfire, more than a little hurt by her sister's scathing words. Blackfire clearly registered this hurt and _fed_ off it. "I do not think _you_, of all people, should go about naming other people selfish, sister," she continued sharply, glaring back at Blackfire. "I have only _ever_ acted with the best interests of my people at heart; I did not 'desert' them."

"Oh, didn't you?" asked Blackfire, suddenly calm. As Starfire correctly gauged it was an unnatural calm, like the eye of a hurricane. "Alright then; perhaps you can come up with a better word for it. What do _you_ call it when the Empress of Tamaran hands over her title to her childhood carer, just so she can go swanning off with her boyfriend?"

"I gave the title to Galfore because I had passed what few laws were needed and perceived that there was no great need for my presence there!" Starfire replied heatedly. "Had I known my people were going to be plunged into war, I would have gladly-"

"What do you mean, 'had I known'?" Blackfire shot back contemptuously. "You know, and indeed _back then_ you still knew very well that the Gordanians have been plotting the downfall of our race ever since the _incident_. All this time they've just been looking for an opening, a weakness, and your neglect was _exactly_ what they wanted."

"But I-"

"" said Robin, glancing across at Starfire. ""

Starfire stared back, bewildered. Robin hardly ever addressed her in Tamaranian.

"Well, well," said Blackfire, smiling humourlessly. She was in two minds about whether she was relieved that Robin had broken the argument up, but the more dominant of the two minds was definitely the one that wasn't. "It would seem our Robin can  Not all that badly, either."

"Starfire _has_ taught me, in answer to your earlier question," he replied formally, not a single crack in his guise. "I am afraid I can only say simple things in Tamaranian, but simplicity is often more effective."

"'Do not argue. You should not argue about things you cannot change'," said Blackfire, translating Robin's words. He nodded.

"Yes. All you were arguing about is in the past now. Unless either of you has a time machine, I suggest you move on to discussing the present situation and how it can be solved," said Robin curtly. "Starfire told me the Tamaranian people are dying."

"Yes, they are," said Blackfire grimly. "The new threat presented by the Gordanians from without is breeding divisions within Tamaran. The provincial states are, as always in times of trouble, attempting to claim independence, and the Klivorian Nationalists have already launched several terrorist attacks advancing their cause… but if that was all we had to worry about I would be thankful in the extreme.Our disparate family members are converging on the capital as we speak, every last one of them intent on seizing the Emperorship from Galfore. He is weakening with each passing day. Cancer; apparently… caused by stress. Caused by you," said Blackfire coldly, glaring at Starfire.

Starfire was just about to burst out in anger when Robin took hold of her shoulder. After calming her down with a long look, Robin spoke to Blackfire.

"I would much appreciate it if we could keep all sniping out of the conversation."

"…As you wish, Dick Grayson," said Blackfire smoothly. "As I was saying, Galfore is fading fast. The Templehood of X'Hal and the Clan of Ostruda, as always uneasy friends in peacetime due to their differences, are now teetering on the very brink of outright war, and as if that wasn't enough the bloodthirsty Warlords of Okaara are looking to pick fights with as many people as possible, whether they can defend themselves or not. Tamaran is now little more than a collection of bickering castes, all being barely held together by Galfore's gradually weakening efforts and our allies the Thanagarians."

Blackfire stood and leaned across the table, staring her sister earnestly in the eyes.

"The people need someone to unite them; to lead them as one against our nemesis, the Gordanians. That person is you. Whether you like it or not, little sister, you are coming back, and you are reassuming the position you abandoned."

Starfire calmly contemplated this.

"But why is this happening? Surely the Treaty of Etrion should-"

But nobody got to hear what it was the Treaty of Etrion should do or be, because Blackfire chose that precise moment to launch herself across the conference table and sweep up her sister in a raging storm that ended only at (or more correctly _in_) the opposite wall.

When Blackfire stopped moving faster than the eye could track, she had Starfire pinned against the wall by her throat and one hand already level with her head, drawn into a fist.

"**Wake up, you selfish BITCH!"** Blackfire roared, her face, wild-eyed and teeth bared, only inches from Starfire's own.

Although Tamaranians may not need to breathe, a chokehold from one of their own kind still hurts like Hell. Add to that how Blackfire's vengeful wrath sped her flight and powered her sinews and Starfire had less than no time in which to react.

It was barely milliseconds after the verbal insult when Starfire felt the sledgehammer blow of her sister's fist into her cheek, compounded by the other side of her face slamming violently into the already dented wall.

Blackfire drew back her hand, preparing it for another strike… when the vision of fury that was her expression slowly faded, her entire frame frozen.

Starfire saw what it was that had made her sister stop, and had just barely heard the sound; what sharp metal would sound like. Despite the relief that Blackfire wasn't going to deal her another load of physical abuse, Starfire could feel the tears aching at the back of her eyes, screaming to be let out.

Don't misunderstand; if it had been any other miscreant in Blackfire's place, Starfire would have had absolutely no lachrymal urges whatsoever. She would not have hesitated to extricate the living daylights out of whoever had slugged her in the face, with vengeance. But this… this was different.

This was the first time Starfire and Blackfire actually had to work together since they'd first parted on Tamaran, and they were already fighting. It made any possibility of saving Tamaran and its people look bleaker than Niflheim.

More than that, Starfire did still care a lot for her sister. As much as she had wanted to fight, Starfire knew she'd never be able to kill Blackfire. Well; not in a premeditated fashion, anyway. Anything could happen on the spur of the moment.

She wanted to believe that there was perhaps some good left in Blackfire, especially since she seemed to be trying to help someone else. Why else would Blackfire come to alert her sister to the troubles in Tamaran? Well… it was of course always possible that she'd had some form of personal incentive, which was far more Blackfire's style, but Starfire had wanted to believe, for maybe just a second, that she could get her sister to redeem herself.

But there was no way on or off Earth she was going cry. Not that Blackfire seemed to care at all; she was quite placidly staring at her hand, which had up until recently been her fist.

To put it bluntly, or sharply, there was a birdarang blade embedded deep into the back of Blackfire's left hand. It appeared to be sticking through out of her palm. Oxygen-rich blood seeped out through both sides of the cut and created vivid red rivers over her orange skin.

Starfire was horrified at the detached fashion in which her sister observed the wound. Was she really so indifferent to her own suffering? Did she care even less for herself than for others?

Starfire's eyes flicked to Robin, her saviour. He was standing a few steps towards them from his chair, apparently having put considerable force into his throw.

"The only thing stopping me from calling off these talks _right_ now," said Robin, in tones of razor-edged ice, "is that the lives of many Tamaranians depend on it. I suggest we have a short recess to allow ourselves to cool down. Now, Blackfire, kindly remove your hand from Starfire's neck."

Blackfire did not answer, but silently obliged. Starfire slowly reanimated herself and stepped out of the dent in the wall, which Blackfire had first used her hapless body to create.

"…Sister?" she asked, her voice tremulous. Robin could come later; family came first, even if Blackfire was corrupt to the point of being fit for expulsion from it.

Blackfire had her head bowed, her eyes closed, the fingers of her right hand closed over the blade still embedded in her left.

"Yes?" she answered, quite without any trace of feeling.

"Shouldn't we get you to the medical bay or… something?" Starfire asked, slowly gaining confidence. She was helping other people; this was something Starfire knew how to do.

"There won't be any need for that," Blackfire continued, in that same cold, lifeless voice

"But we really need to-"

Then Blackfire tugged sharply on the blade, pulling it from her hand in one fluid and rapid motion. More of that vivid red blood spilled out from the wound on both sides of her hand, like some kind of stigmata.

But even more disturbing than that, Starfire saw Blackfire smirk, her eyes still closed.

"I would have told you to shut up, but that seems to have done the trick," she said, with more than a touch of grim satisfaction. The blood flow was already starting to stem as the superb Tamaranian healing rate worked its magic, but Blackfire didn't seem to care that there was a pool of her blood on the floor at her feet. The birdarang joined it, clattering metallically to the floor.

Starfire shot a nervous glance over at Dick's kennel; he was going absolutely ballistic in there, throwing himself against the force-bars in a vain yet desperate attempt to get out. His mistress' blood had been spilt, and he was more than willing to attack his namesake for this most heinous of perpetrations.

Already, she could see the powerful venom dripping from its fangs. Dick was of a breed that served the role of a warhound in the Tamaranean military. It was powerful enough to break a Gordanian in half with its jaws alone, as the bones of a Gordanian in its kennel proved.

"Blackfire," said Robin, maintaining the unshakeable demeanour from before. "We will separate for a while before continuing, to allow any unwanted aggression to harmlessly run its course. Starfire; we're leaving the bridge for now."

Starfire stared at Blackfire, her gaze flicking between her sister's distressingly calm face and the gaping wound in her left hand.

"Star. Please come."

**WWW**

"…No."

Robin's eyes narrowed at the response, for though it was directed to Starfire, both Blackfire and Starfire had answered in unison at the same time.

"What? _Star!_"

Blackfire's smirk disappeared. She did _not_ like such instances happening, rare as they were. It served to play up whatever bond between them as sisters that still existed, whether she liked it or not.

"What's this, sister?" she asked, allowing her eyelids to creak open. "Not obeying your dear boyfriend, like always?"

"Under normal circumstances I would do anything Robin asked or told me to, but…" Starfire stepped around Blackfire to face Robin and, with the face and voice of the spirit of Sincerity itself, Starfire said; "…I cannot do what you want, Robin. I cannot even do what I want. I have run away from my sister too many times, or let others take her away from me. I do not want her to fall into darkness. This time I am staying, and I am going to sort things out."

**WWW**

"_That impertinent, arrogant little…__whore._" The thought raged in tempestuous seas, growing in strength, as did Blackfire's anger. After everything was said and done, was her sister so _naïve_ as to actually believe she had a chance at _changing_ her - _r__edeeming_ her? Was she so full of herself, so full of hope and optimism, to actually _ignore_ the realities of a universe where only the strongest survived, where all that mattered was wealth and power? In the end, you can trust no-one but yourself.

That was the singular reality in which Blackfire had grown up; the continuum within which she existed; in short, everything she was, and such talk only served to enrage her.

Blackfire chuckled. There was something intrinsically evil about an expression of humour being twisted in the mouth of one so corrupt. Robin picked up on this, but all too late. Without warning, Robin and Starfire suddenly found themselves pinned to the wall, and Blackfire was being even less merciful than before.

Robin was not so much slammed against it as placed there, just to make sure he didn't misbehave. Yet, Blackfire's fingers circled gently, almost… seductively… over his pulse point. His breathing hitched as he gulped, drawing in air.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, _dear_ sister, but I would much rather spend several excruciating eternities in _Hell_ than be turned into an angelic airhead like you," Blackfire spat. "I don't know what nauseatingly cute _virtues_ you want to instill in me, but know now that you _cannot change me_. I will be what I want, _understand?_"

Starfire wasn't exactly in any position to argue, pinned as she was and with no birdarang-throwing Robin to rescue her this time.

"Yes… sister."

Just as abruptly, she released them and gave a single command, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Follow me. I have something that Starfire needs to see."

That last action had put Robin back on his guard and had unsettled Starfire emotionally. Blackfire smirked briefly. That was exactly what she'd been aiming for.

After all, a female who could manipulate Kyle Rayner by tricking him, sleeping with him and stealing his power ring the next day without remorse, _after_ he'd been sent to apprehend her, was a dangerous foe indeed.

**WWW**

Blackfire entered the room, the counter-electronics package and Faraday cage activating to minimize electronic emissions. She keyed in a sequence on a pad on the side of the table. The holographic projectors flickered into life, showing nothing but static.

"We received this from Manarka. Remember, sister? The city you loved so much back when you were a little girl. The city you told me was the prettiest on Tamaran; so much more fun than the boring old capital. Well…"

The static cleared out into some kind of coherent picture. Starfire soon wished the static had never cleared.

People say Hell is made of fire and brimstone. They are wrong. It is made, not of evil substance, but of beautiful things which have been twisted and corrupted.

The once graceful skyscrapers of Manarka, each one a symphony of sweeping curves and dazzling displays of light, were now little more than jagged razors that tore at an ugly grey sky. The clouds of war half-concealed massive underslung ship-turrets, each barrel pumping out streams of fiery death onto the city below.

There was a fountain near the camera. It was a thing of singular beauty, what with the elaborate criss-crossing arcs of sparkling water and the stunningly life-like glass carving of Tamaranian children playing in a circle on a raised platform at the fountain's centre. It was perhaps inevitable that the following would happen.

A beam of infernal energy lanced out of the broiling clouds, devastating the fountain with a mind-shattering cacophony of destruction and exploding a deadly hail of glass shrapnel everywhere around it.

The holograph underwent an instant of chaos, going completely blurred. It finally came to rest sideways on the ground, showing a perfectly impassive Tamaranian face, also lying sideways. She could have passed for Starfire with a bit of cosmetic rearrangement, and her beauty was definitely no less. Indeed, it made you wonder why her eyes were so lifeless… until you noticed the pool of blood seeping across the floor, and then the dagger of glass embedded in her brain.

Someone shouted in wild and desperate tones. Blackfire calmly keyed in another sequence on the pad; English subtitles accompanied the Tamaranian speech. Robin hugged Starfire close to himself, feeling her shoulders trembling.

"Sister? _Sister!_" the voice shouted. It was clearly male, possibly in early adulthood; definitely still young.

"Pick up the camera and keep moving, Hal!" said another, gruffer voice; it could have been the former individual's father, judging from the similarity in tone. "You can't help her!"

The camera continued recording, still not picked up, as Hal rolled the beautiful female onto her back.

"How can you be so cold? She's _your daughter!_" the youth cried in anguish, off to the left of the screen (up, since the camera was on its side).

"You think I don't know that?" the older voice replied dangerously.

"At least let me take her body!" Hal pleaded.

"Very well, but keep moving!"

The camera was lifted, showing Hal; a strapping young man by all accounts. He was obviously swallowing as much sorrow as he could, but grief was still evident in his face. The once lithe body of his sister hung limply from Hal's forklift arms.

"Son."

Hal looked up past the camera; his father must have been holding it.

"We have a mission. Remember that."

Hal nodded, putting on a brave face against the oncoming tears of mourning.

"Good lad. Let's keep going."

The camera moved on past Hal. The apocalyptic landscape seemed to bounce as its bearer ran on in long strides; Hal's footsteps followed on behind.

The cameraman obviously had a definite aim in mind, as he kept focusing his camera on the turrets above and the burning devastation around them. Buildings lay in splintered ruins, dismembered bodies crushed under the wreckage… that is, if they hadn't been disintegrated by a death ray and rendered into a smouldering pile of black ash.

There were a considerable number of Thanagarians amongst the fallen. There must have been a Thanagarian garrison in Manarka, for every last one of them was kitted out with their signature metal war-wings. Tamaranian soldiers lay with them. Even the Tamaranians' best ally in these turbulent times could not help them hold back the invaders.

Hal had run on ahead; his father's progress was somewhat slowed by the attention he was paying to camerawork. Suddenly, they both stopped.

"Father! The enemy are just around that corner!"

"Which way are they headed?" the father asked urgently.

"Nowhere just now… they're conducting a mass execution," said Hal, anger burning in his eyes, bright as the obliterating starbolts he could no doubt create. Hal's arms still held his dead sister, his fingers bunched into fists.

"Then I must see it. The Empress must know what these bastards are doing to us." Hal nodded and pointed the way.

"You see, sister?" asked Blackfire, glancing at her sibling slyly. "They made this specifically to inform you. They believe in you."

Starfire didn't answer. Her frightened eyes were fixed on the holograph.

Again the camera moved on through the ruined street, but didn't bounce this time; Hal's father was stepping with more caution. The camera slowly slid around the corner of what used to be a building; a piece of fallen wreckage provided cover.

The scene around the corner was even worse than the ones before, if that was at all possible… and it was. Although all the previous scenes of devastation had pictured already dead Tamaranians, this one contained live beings…

They were trapped under a force dome to stop them simply flying away, although most of the prisoners looked as though sitting up would be a tall order, let alone flying. There were a few soldiers who had decided to stay alive and help the wounded rather than fight to the death; Tamaranian and Thanagarian warriors tended to those who still had the spark of life in their eyes and closed the ones that didn't. Most of the prisoners were Tamaranian citizens; mothers and fathers hugged their sobbing children close, trying to calm them down and shield their eyes from the Gordanians.

At least two hundred of the monsters swaggered around the force dome. The Gordanians were like some grotesque hybrid of the Lizard and the Hulk, and most of them wore golden armour and brandished energy-poles. Even these bellicose giants had taken losses; among the dead Tamaranian and Thanagarian soldiers were scorched and dismembered lumps of blue-green flesh.

The defending warriors had fought well for all that they were outnumbered and outgunned, but there was now nobody who could stave off the inevitable. Despite the Tamaranean advantage in strength and durability individually, the Gordanians were simply too many and too technically advanced to confront in open warfare.

The end was approaching in the form of a Gordanian kitted out with what looked suspiciously like a heavy-duty flamethrower. Hal gasped in horror; he knew exactly what it was. Ordinary fire held no terrors for Tamaranians. A race that can stand the absolute zero temperatures of space has nothing to fear from a mere cloud of oxidising heat. No; this was far worse.

It was a form of biological warfare so potent that it was more than just a supervirus. The ultravirus was known only as, in rough translation…

"The Shrieking Death," Hal whispered, in a voice hushed by horror and anger. "Surely even the Gordanians couldn't be so cruel?"

Although oblivion did come relatively quickly to those infected by the Shrieking Death, the minute or so they had left to live was filled with unimaginably excruciating pain as the ultravirus shut down every bodily system one by one, starting with the immune system… and leaving the nervous system until last. This was, as you might have guessed, how it got its singularly graphic and disturbing name.

Robin didn't know all of this, but Blackfire did. So did Starfire.

"I wouldn't put it past them, son," said Hal, in the grim voice of a veteran. "The Gordanians have no understanding of mercy. They live to make others suffer; they are the paragons of malice. That is why we are doing this; the Empress will save us when we get this recording to her majesty."

Blackfire glanced sidelong at Starfire, deciding to stay quiet this time and simply gauge the effect as an observer.

Starfire's face showed no expression; she had been too well trained in courtly protocol. Even so, Blackfire was her sister and had come to learn the language of her emotions fluently over the years.

Blackfire smirked triumphantly as she returned her gaze to the holograph. There was no doubt. Guilt was piercing Starfire's soul like a La'urak sting.

The Gordanian carrying the lethal ultravirus opened an airtight opening in the side of the force-dome and, grinning viciously, prepared to administer the Shrieking Death. Some of the prisoners were already screaming; particularly the children. They didn't know what was going to happen, but all children react to tension like iron filings to magnetic fields. To the background of bawling children, the few soldiers who hadn't yet succumbed physically or mentally to the horrors of war swapped final farewells with their comrades.

"We must save them, father," said Hal, with all due respect but also a rebellious tone n his voice.

"I know what you're thinking, Hal," his father replied, not moving the camera from the scene in front of them. "You want to help anyway, even if I don't go with you. You will know now that I will _not_ help you, and you will _not_ help them. The Empress must be informed. _That_ is our mission. We must stay alive to do this, and we cannot afford to take stupid heroic risks. Much as I admire your courage and altruism, son, on this occasion _you will stand down_."

Hal bit his lip and scowled but said nothing, simply staring down at his dead sister in deep thought.

The Gordanian had finally primed the ultravirus. Speaking a terrible oath of hate to those he was about to murder, he reached for the trigger-

"I think that's quite enough," said Blackfire, abruptly causing the holograph to flicker and die. "You can guess what happens next anyway." Blackfire had seen it herself, and even by her standards it was _disturbing_.

Starfire didn't respond, but instead just stared ahead at the now empty space which the holograph had occupied. Her eyes were glazed over as she replayed the images she'd seen in her mind's eye… and the images she would have seen if the entirety of the recording had been revealed to her.

"Star?"

Robin reached across and laid a hand gently on Starfire's shoulder. Her face fell when she remembered what was happening, having been temporarily lost to the vicarious experience of the holograph.

"I…"

"You what, dear sister?" asked Blackfire calmly. She stood and went over to a machine over by the wall. It looked oddly to Robin like an extraterrestrial… drinks dispenser. "Have you finally decided to come back with me to Tamaran and lead your people in a glorious crusade against the Gordanians?" She spoke this sentence with blatant sarcasm, indicating that she saw the whole affair as anything _but_ glorious.

Blackfire noticed the odd look Robin was giving the machine.

"Oh, that little thing? It makes drinks."

"I had deduced as much," Robin replied icily. "Most of them alcoholic, I expect?" he riposted, glaring at Blackfire from where he sat beside Starfire.

"Touché," she replied, smiling. "Yes, I have to admit that I do allow myself the occasional bout of intoxication. It's fun. Besides, I feel rather parched after all that drama. Either of you want a drink?"

The stony silence gave Blackfire some idea as to the answer.

"Ah. That's a no, then. Right."

"…Would you mind leaving me alone for a while?" Starfire asked, her voice clearly fragile and choking up with tears. Robin glanced at her anxiously, as did, surprisingly enough, Blackfire.

"We still need an answer from you, sister dear. Will you-?"

"_YES! I will!"_ Starfire screamed, her red hair billowing out like flame as she rose from her chair in anger. Then, just as suddenly, Starfire collapsed back into the chair, all vivacity fled.

"…Yes," said Starfire, breaking the stunned silence. "I will return to Tamaran and do my duty. But I have a few things I wish to attend to on Earth before I leave."

"Very well, sister," said Blackfire, with several times more respect than usual. Still, zero multiplied by anything is still zero. "I can give you a month, tops, although of course it would be great if you came before that. With every day that passes the situation-"

"I want to be alone. _Now,_" said Starfire in tones of steel.

"Wow, okay," said Blackfire, picking up her drink. "I'm gone. You heard her, Robin; we'll wait in my quarters. Just tell the guards when you're ready, sister." Without so much as another insult, Blackfire drifted lackadaisically from the room. Robin followed, glancing back at Starfire every step of the way.

'_Why is she so still?'_

-x-

The doors closed behind them.

"Welcome to my room," said Blackfire, stretching out her free hand in a sweeping gesture and giving Robin a dazzling smile. Robin tried to ignore Blackfire and casually observed the quarters.

They weren't much, which surprised Robin somewhat. He'd have thought Blackfire would be the kind to get every little luxury for her room, but it was actually quite basic. Well, for a starship; obviously there were several screens and computer terminals, but even so the only luxuries there were personal touches.

"You actually have static pictures with all this technology?" asked Robin, looking around.

"Yes. I find that the moving ones are so distracting. A room should not move – only the people in it. Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Blackfire asked, offering the cup she held to Robin. "It's quite harmless. A lot like those carbonated beverages you humans seem to like so much. So I lied; it's _very_ harmful, actually," said Blackfire, her hand still extended towards Robin, offering the cup of dark liquid. Robin stared at it dubiously.

"How am I supposed to know you haven't put something 'extra' in it?" he asked suspiciously. Blackfire sighed, foiled.

"Well, if you want me to be that scrupulously honest, which I rarely ever am so consider yourself lucky, yes, there is a little something in this."

"I knew it," said Robin coldly, glaring at Blackfire. "Just out of interest, what kind of poison were you trying to use?"

"Poison? Oh no…" Blackfire lifted the cup to her lips and, to Robin's astonishment, took a fair-sized gulp from it. "…you've got it all wrong. There's no poison in this."

"So…?" asked Robin. Blackfire allowed the question to fade into the air before laughing – but not too contemptuously this time.

"Please don't tell me you haven't figured it out," said Blackfire, sitting on the edge of her bed and setting the drink down on the bedside table. "I mean, what with you being Batman's protégé and all…"

Robin bridled at this, but unfortunately couldn't work out what in perdition it was she was babbling on about, and so could formulate no meaningful riposte. Blackfire stared and smiled at Robin.

"Alright, genius. It's an aphrodisiac," said Blackfire pleasantly, taking another sip at the cup. To say Robin was shocked would be compressing the truth somewhat. "Not exactly a poison, but then… who needs poison when you can fall in love with me?" She luxuriously lay back on the bed and grinned at Robin mischievously, running her hands down her curves to rest on her hips.

"There's one crucial flaw in your premise here, Blackfire," said Robin harshly, keeping his eyes firmly on her grinning face. "I don't love you. I never have, and no amount of drugging would make me be unfaithful to Starfire."

"But Starfire is leaving. Nobody ever said that I had to go with her. I could stay here on Earth with you…" Blackfire sat up and gazed at Robin demurely from between long eyelashes. "I could be better than Starfire ever was. You don't know what I'm like in-"

"Don't you even _dare_ suggest it," Robin warned. Despite his severe tone, Blackfire took yet another swig and stood up, swaying her hips as she strolled towards Robin.

"Too late," she said, giggling impishly. "I already have. The more you refuse me, the more that makes me want you." Blackfire reached out with both hands to hug Robin.

"Don't touch me," he said quickly, stepping back. Blackfire shrugged and let her arms drop. "Look… I don't understand. Why are you suddenly telling me all this out of nowhere?" Blackfire laughed incredulously.

"What do you mean 'out of nowhere'? This isn't the first time I've tried to seduce you. Admittedly it was a lot more subtle in the past, but there were other people around most of the time. Are you sure?" Blackfire asked again, proffering the cup. It was still half-full.

Robin stared at the laced drink long and hard. He imagined himself slapping it out of Blackfire's hand to the floor, but he wasn't the kind for such melodramatic gestures.

"I'd like to say I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I don't like lying," said Robin frostily. Blackfire shrugged again, her eyes half-closed as she gazed at Robin.

"Suit yourself." Robin watched as she raised the cup once more to her lips-

Robin had experienced surprise. He'd seen shock, done astonishment, bought the embarrassed T-shirt and all that. Unfortunately, there is no word in existence in any language throughout the universe that can adequately describe how he felt when Blackfire had her lips wrapped around his. She'd moved so quickly that Robin felt Blackfire could pause time for all but herself.

People's primary instinctual protest is verbal. Since this was patently impossible from the way Blackfire was attempting to consume his mouth-

Robin's eyes shot open wide as he realised what she had just done. All niceties forgotten, he pushed Blackfire away from himself and coughed loudly.

"Neat trick, huh?" asked Blackfire, grinning all over her face. "I learned it on Shak'khar-Vorn 7; you'd never believe the stuff they do there."

"I am _seriously_ considering making myself throw up," said Robin, glaring darkly at her.

"Won't make any difference," said Blackfire, shrugging in her usual _laissez-faire_ manner. "The aphrodisiac I just kissed down your throat takes instant effect… as you can probably tell," she continued, observing Robin carefully for the signs.

"Next time you're looking for a kissing partner give my regards to the nearest black hole," said Robin with barely disguised venom, wiping the residue from his lips. _"Goodbye,"_ he finished abruptly, turning and striding to the door.

"You aren't going anywhere just yet," said Blackfire carelessly, strolling to him again in that unbearably sensuous fashion she had. "That door's locked. Only I know the code to open it." Robin gave a sigh of deepest loathing and turned back to face Blackfire.

"_What do you want?"_ Robin demanded, in a voice that was halfway between a shout and a growl. Even though Robin's temper would have made lesser demons back away in fear, Blackfire simply grinned knowingly.

"I'd tell you now, but that would ruin the suspense… and besides, I don't know if you'd understand some of the technical terms. Just know this…" said Blackfire, drawing so close that they were breathing on each others' skin. "…I will visit you again soon, and I will offer myself up to you again. You really don't know what you're missing, Robin… Dick," she corrected herself, flashing her tongue between her lips and teeth. "You really don't. Starfire is nowhere near as good as me at anything, and that includes sex."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this," said Robin, pulling a hand down his face. In truth, every word Blackfire uttered aroused him by yet another notch… but he was damned to the very bottommost pit of Hell if he admitted it.

"Just consider it, my dear Robin…" Blackfire walked past Robin and keyed in the code to the door. It slid smoothly open. Blackfire stood patiently by it, that knowing smile still lingering on her luscious lips. "I'll be seeing you."

Without so much as another word, Robin strode from the room past Blackfire without even glancing at her. She, however, had been watching him every step of the way.

'_Damn, but I __**love**__ it when he gets all smouldering like that…'_

Blackfire drained the rest of the cup and closed the door. It was soundproofed and perfectly opaque, so the Thanagarian guards wouldn't be any the wiser to what she was about to do.

Blackfire sat down on the edge of her bed, closest to the bedside table. Opening up a drawer, she took out a single, small, framed portrait picture… and this one moved.

For a long while, Blackfire simply sat there staring at the little rectangle of moving light and colour as though hypnotised. And then, sighing under the weight of memory, Blackfire put away the picture.

Unfortunately she had a whole lot of aphrodisiac still in her system and nobody to share it with. There were devices, sure, but…

When nobody could see or hear, Blackfire was released of her adamant façade… and wept.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**WWW**

_"With all the associations of darkness and the trickster it is easy to lose sight of the softer, more generous side of their nature. They are often to be seen in the wild rubbing beaks and canoodling with their life's partner, using their extensive vocabulary to "whisper sweet nothings" in a strangely anthropomorphic way."_

'Ravenchild' by Maddy Prior

**WWW**

_What was the world to her?_

When Trigon had used her, his _jewel_, to seal the doom of Earth, he had nearly destroyed her. Not so much physically as mentally and emotionally.

Every person saw the world in a different way. Some saw it as a map, of physical geography, the teal blue of oceans and the khaki browns of land, the emerald greens of jungle. Others saw it as a collection of nation-states, lines of energy and power linking each together in an interdependent system. Others saw a system of memetics and genetics, linkages by blood and history.

For Raven, she saw her friends. The Titans, all the people she respected and admired. She saw her mother and Azar, the closest being she had to an aunt and grandmother combined.

Why else had she saved them, choosing five teenage heroes over the veterans of the Justice League? Because of a single selfish choice; her family. Even if the entire world was saved and her friends sacrificed for it, she would consider the world as good as dead. Without them, there was no world.

Victor and Garfield, her brothers by a bond beyond blood.

Robin, a dear, close friend whom she valued ever so much, knowing his pains and sorrows. The one who had been there for her at the end of all things.

Argent and Jinx, her first real _girlfriends_. She had watched movies with them, gone shopping with them, done her nails with them. She'd listened to Jinx reveal some rather interesting habits on the part of Kid Flash, as well as some rather kinky details in the mix. Argent in turn had talked about dating Bumblebee, of their lives and their loves. Their worries, hopes and joys.

Aziz; that enigmatic, irritating, protective, tragic human who had entered her life so unexpectedly and enriched it in more ways than one.

_Starfire_.

The closest thing she had to a sister. She had told her hopes and dreams to Starfire, sharing them. Of how in her darkest moments, when she had lost all hope…it was the memory of Robin that had anchored her, allowing her to fight to the very end. Of how she had blushed when Robin had told her one time of how beautiful she had looked. Of the pain she had suffered at the betrayal of Malchior.

Starfire had told her of how she drew her strength from her childhood memories of Blackfire, how she had always looked up to her, even now. After all, a sister who literally broke every bone in her body to shield Starfire from the impact of a starship was worth looking up to…

…and then the haunting yet restful lullaby Blackfire would sing for Starfire when nightmares scared her at night, sitting by her bedside and singing words that they could both remember from childhood, as the song that their mother used to sing to both of them in just the same way.

_So why was Raven crying?_

_A part of her world would disappear, maybe forever, into the ocean of war._

**WWW**

Aziz sighed softly, looking down at Raven. It was dire indeed when the normally emotionless Raven was to be discovered sobbing freely into pillows, curled up on his mattress.

Raven had said she just wanted to talk, and Aziz understood. He'd listened patiently to everything Raven had to say, not offering a word in reply – sometimes just being there is all the comfort needed. The others had their own ways of dealing with it, but this was Raven's way.

The mood had been despondent ever since Starfire told them, as calmly as she could. She'd chosen to take the T-Ship back to Jump City. Not a word had passed between them on the way home. Even BB knew better than to crack a joke.

Starfire was now in her room, with Dick beside her.

Cyborg and Garfield were still processing the news, in the initial stages of shock. Aziz knew they would try to argue for the Titans to follow Starfire, but it wasn't that simple. They were teenage superheroes, with little understanding of the realities and politics of interstellar war, though not that they weren't wise and mature enough to handle it. Still, no one on the team had ever had to kill a living, breathing sapient being. A being with a family, with hopes and dreams just like them, fighting for a cause they did or did not believe in.

Therein lay the difference between him and the rest. Aziz had. He had slaughtered children of innumerable species, breaking their necks with his feet or hands. He had throttled pregnant human women and slit open their stomachs, strangling the fetuses with umbilical cords as their mothers screamed in agony and terror.

_Karas'thy Raksa. Demon. Devil. Dancer in the Dark Places. Devourer of Darkness._

He had stabbed people to death and experienced everything of their lives, even their final moments. He had suffocated infants, asphyxiating them to prevent their cries from alerting the enemy as a mortal soldier, so many lives past.

_Killer. Murderer. Lord of Massacre. Protector of the Innocent. King of Nights._

_The Warmaster of the Janthrils._

Their screams still came to him at night, for he lived them. A trillion years of an incarnation spent fighting, killing and murdering by himself and with his legions across the Omniverse. Yet other innumerable existences spent, as a saint, a murderer, a prostitute, a cyborg. Dying by knife and gas, by pistol and torture, his experiences spiraled into his heart, the hidden void of mystery that defined and escaped him.

Starfire would never have to experience what he had done for the sake of victory. She would be a symbol, a rallying call to her people. After all, in a war, symbols were all-important, and he knew their symbolism well. She was a mother who returned to defend her children, bearing the skull of a La'urak, primal predator of the Tamaraneans, symbol of savagery and slaughter. Their queen and supreme commander, doing what she had been born and bred to do.

It was her duty. Yet, she would take on a heavy burden in her own way, for each strategic misstep she made she would pay the cost in the blood of her soldiers. Given how emotional she was as a person, it was a terrible burden, and one that would plague her for the rest of her life.

_Did I spend lives or did I waste them?_

Yet, the roots of this war went deeper, for he had seen the plan. He knew its roots, of how lies had been weaved until it became a truth. It was doing exactly what it was designed to do. To remove Starfire from the Titans, exactly as the powers he had once served intended. Powers he could not oppose, for far greater things were at stake.

_For they planned to awaken the power within him…_

All directed in a net of time around him, every path he had found to avoid that fate was leading to his death, leading to the promise of the Raven Queen who would save the world…

_The only path he could take, to save the Omniverse from himself…_

_Into shadows and echoes of darknesss…_

_For she who would be the death of him_.…

But there was one thing he could do for Starfire; or two…

**WWW**

"Miria, are you comfortable?" Dumiel asked. He twitched his ears, his senses attuned to the slightest disturbances. He glanced back at his Queen, the other Chevaliers hovering protectively around her. They had come from beyond to our universe at the decision of Karan, Miria's mother. It was their sanctuary.

She replied slowly before slipping back into the container where her sister slept, the coppery scent of blood filling the air. They'd raided the blood bank and had sufficient supplies to last a week.

They had been hounded and pursued from world to world and plane to plane by the humans, always seeking to end them. Miria's mother had died in the pursuit, buying time for them to gain refuge with the Warmaster.

The former Warmaster of the Janthril Dynasty was a mythic figure to them, existing in the shadow of history. In their darkest times, their clans had always turned to him for succor and he had answered, asking only loyalty in return.

The few times Karan had spoken of him, she had done so in tones of reverence, as if speaking of a god. Now, she was dead, and her final words had been to direct her last Chevalier to protect her children, the new generation of Chiropteran Queens.

They had escaped from Rotterdam by the edge of their teeth, their allies the Lycans and Vampires of the Corvinii escaping with them as well. The _vampyres_, those vampires of mystic origin, whose souls were replaced with the spirits of demons, had attacked in force along with mortal men of tremendous strength and speed, known only by the term Bhagatur. Supporting them were innumerable androids concealed by some form of cloaking, concealing them.

The losses to their clans had been many. In the last few months, minor skirmishes among those that wished to coexist with and hide among the humans had broken out with those that did not.

The skirmishes had eventually erupted into a full scale war unprecedented in the history of Chiropteran or Corvinii alike. So like the Mayflower Pilgrims of old, they had escaped, hiding onboard freighters bound for the refuges of Cape Town, Sau Paulo, Sydney, Tokyo, Singapore, Calcutta and Los Angeles.

There, they had allies whom they could seek refuge with, to ride out the incoming storm. Australia was the safest, followed by Singapore and Bali, all refuges from the storm.

Yet even in the stronghold of Japan, the daemons of the supernatural world and spirits of nature, the youkai and obake, were pressed hard as well. Over the world, vampyre covens were rising into the open, in a coordinated effort to claim dominance over the communities that hid among the very fabric of society. In many cases, agents of Ras al Ghul's League of Assassins aided them.

In the magical world there was uproar, as an entire new breed of alchemists had appeared, talking of a new god of magic, more potent than any of the Lords of Magic- Khagat the Potent.

Dumiel had existed in this world for at least a millennia, and as the oldest of the Chevaliers, was a proficient mage himself, to complement his superhuman abilities. Many covens of witches, wizards and warlocks had openly pledged allegiance to a power greater than anything encountered before, the Ahriman Society. In the process, alliances and pacts long held sacred were sundered, as chaos came to rule it. Only in North America was there even a form of stability, due to the disproportionate amount of metahumans and Homo Magi present in North America.

The presence of the Champion of Shazam, Captain Marvel, as well as Zatarra, were more than enough to quell more of the active groups, curbing their frenzied hunts of their magical brethren not aligned with the Society.

Once they reached Jump City, they would seek out Sophia Mendes. As far as Dumiel knew, she was the most direct link to the former Warmaster and had the power to protect them.

However, he was also aware of the recent movements of OCI, for they had withdrawn slowly, traces of them disappearing as subtle shifts of reality obvious only to those not originating from this universe or its countless dimensions and planes.

Soon, war would come, and if his people were to survive, if his queens were to live, they had to seek refuge in the shadow of the only being they could totally trust with their lives.

**WWW**

"Star…why?"

Dick Grayson knew why. He'd heard why. But he was a human being, with it all its frailties and imperfections. In essence, he was imperfectly rational.

"There has to be another way. The team _needs_ you, Starfire. You have responsibilities here on Earth. I mean…"

As noble as he was, as virtuous as he was, Richard Grayson was human. Human nature did not change, as history had shown. Nations had fought in the past, and still did. Empires rose and fell, as they did even now; the only thing that changed was the weapons they used.

His human nature did not want to let her go. To lose among the few things that had been a pillar in his life for so long, just as it did not wish to lose the affection of the man who was his father in all but name and blood.

_To lose the one person whom he was scared to truly open up to, for he realized he loved her. Here was a person whom he loved more than anything else. _

_Even if the stars died, as long as he had her, he could survive, somehow…somewhere._

Starfire simply looked at him. She listened to his words, to the selfish desire that underlay them all… a desire she understood well, motivated by his distress at losing her.

_Please stay. Please don't leave me. I love you_.

She slowly stood up and took his hand, putting a single finger to his mouth to silence him. She gave him a wan smile, as she led him to the bed and forced him to sit down. She sat down beside him and leaned against his shoulder, before saying three simple words.

"Just hold me."

**WWW**

"Just…hold me."

Garfield Logan held on to Tara, body shaking.

Tara cried, even though she had not known Starfire anywhere near as well as Garfield. However, that seemed to be allowed. She knew Garfield far too well to suspect that he might cry.

She knew Garfield would see it as a sign of weakness.

But she also knew that she couldn't stand Garfield's silence.

Sometimes, silence is the saddest thing in the world.

**WWW**

Cyborg flicked again, looking at the Facebook photos of Starfire on the Titans account. His organic hand trembled lightly.

Why it trembled, he did not know. Perhaps it was some subconscious stress originating from the human part of him. He did not wish to know its source. His diagnostics showed his cybernetics were all in peak condition. The sensors connected to his human side revealed anomalies in his heart rate and neurochemistry.

As much as he valued his humanity, at times like this, he felt it to be a curse. As much as he could enjoy a beautiful sunset or the majesty of a canyon, sometimes, being able to feel emotions, to feel pain, was an annoyance.

Suddenly, he pulled away from the monitor, as he reached for the phone to call Sarah. Somehow, the view from his right eye, his biological eye, was blurry. A discharge of fluid from his lacrimal glands, commonly known as tears, as doctors knew it.

He did not bother to identify the emotion he felt and simply dialed in the number, needing a friend to talk to. Sometimes, it was better that way.

**WWW**

Az walked back into his room, to see Raven asleep on his bed, though it was little more than just a mattress. Even if he did have a proper bed, he preferred sleeping beneath it.

Having assassinated others as a career, not mention having survived assassinations in turn over several serial incarnations, had convinced him of the security risk a bed presented if one was in a position of power. Still, probably not in this universe.

_That first time I kissed her…that's the first time I've been in a bed or that intimate with anyone in over a century._

He sat down in front of his laptop, a rugged Panasonic Toughbook 19, flexing his fingers, moving his fingers in a blur as he typed in a dispatch.

After a few adventures in Tokyo, as well as having Starfire personally save the Board of Directors of Matsushita Electric Industrial and Hyundai, the company had been more than happy to sponsor a holiday for them and grant them access to their latest products for a token fee.

Az happened to own small percentages of each company, each amounting to roughly 7 or so, all through assumed aliases. The executives who represented him knew him through his Japanese name of Yamamoto Sasuke or by its romanised version, Sasuke Yamamoto, the name on his Japanese passport. His alias of Ishikawa Anji was yet another identity.

He smiled slightly at the thought of the Titans ever discovering all his identities. In one way or another, they all reflected his ancestry, ranging from Celtic, Indo-Aryan, Semitic, Berber, Arab, Turkic, Nubian and Zulu to Dravidian, Taino Indian, Israeli and Ashkenazi Jews, Gurkha, Thai, Javanese, Korean and Japanese, just to name among the few. Raven had been surprised, when he'd listed the major ones, to say the least.

Though by the way he looked he could have been mistaken for being from somewhere in the Middle East, a coloured person of South Africa, a Brazilian, Hispanic and a variety of places. Most people at the very least thought he looked like one of them.

_I'll need Tara active faster than normal, and up till now, Sophia hasn't informed the Titans of the security of their cryogenic prison compromised. OCI is slowly being rolled back on orders from Ghanima and unrest is increasing around the world. To date, all the criminals who escaped have not been active and remain in hiding. The Ahriman Society is consolidating its power and its agenda is unknown, for now. I'll have to change that…_

He'd have to start Raven's training faster than expected, and introduce Robin to Tian Wen at the proper time. Right now, he was too emotionally vulnerable with the impending absence of Starfire.

Given that he had at least a month left before Starfire left, the least he could do was arrange a holiday for the couple, to spend some time together before she left. He already had a few places in mind, romantic places that he was sure they would appreciate. Of course, the holiday was coming courtesy of Temasek Holdings of Singapore for services rendered to the nation.

It was the least he could do for them, given all the turmoil he had introduced into their lives ever since he'd joined. A villa in the hills of Rio de Janeiro, overlooking Ipanema beach, was already being prepared, as was a house in the Stellenbosch region near Cape Town and a penthouse apartment in Cape Town itself.

All were under his ownership, so they wouldn't have to worry about paying rent. He'd also prepared a debit account with a total of a million euros and another with 200 000 euros for normal spending.

Their plane tickets were also being organized, all the way on first class. They would be completed by Monday, in two days time. The total length of their entire trip abroad would be two weeks, with enough time for them to come back and sort out anything that needed to be sorted out before she left.

Details, details… Aziz took care of them so they didn't have to. In the end, these details would be all for naught if the Titans couldn't find solace in each other.

**WWW**

Raven stared out at the dreamscape before her. It was a beautiful horizon, on a planet with two moons. The sand beneath her was ground into crystal dust, billions upon billions of years old. Rich textures of violet and lavender crossed the sky, as meteors fell and burned in the atmosphere. It was a world unlike any she'd seen.

Then she turned to look back and stared hard, at the mountains that reached into the thermosphere, some piercing the atmosphere to reach the beginnings of space. Mountains of rock, metal and glass, they were colossi that had stood the test of time. Upon them was the mark of a serpentine oriental dragon, over the rune marks that were an ambigram written in an alien yet recognizable script. _Janthril_.

A familiar presence hovered nearby in the dreamscape, two figures that exuded restrained authority and majesty, the dreamscape somehow straining around them as if straining to accommodate them.

"So what's the purpose of this Sorentho? And your friend over there is…Urenor."

"He's just here to watch Lady Raven. My elder half-brother, of the same father but different mother; he is an embodiment of entropy and time."

"Where are we?" Raven asked as she stared in awe at the constellations, all foreign to her. In the depths of space beyond her, galaxies collided in colossal displays of power, violent interactions causing vast clouds of gases and jets of antimatter to collide.

"We are in the astral plane, on a planet that was dragged here by the will of an ancient being, ancient beyond the reckoning of any in your home universe. Guess who?"

"And the significance of this?" she replied, quirking an eyebrow. She hadn't yet told Az that she knew more than a thing or two about him, specifically his real age, which she guessed was far more than the trillion Sorentho had quoted to her before, not including previous forms of existence.

A cradle snatcher indeed, just like Padme Amidala to Anakin Skywalker, though in this instance the gender was reversed and the age gap far more significant. But then, she was always good at hiding, and he had made a promise to not read her body language or emotions as much as practical, to protect her privacy.

"What do you think you're sitting on?"

"You're not answering?"

"It's related."

"Sand," Raven replied, not trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

"Sand, as you know is made of glass, a ceramic that can be made in numerous ways. Where do you think all that glass came from?"

Raven glanced at the mountains to the west of her and motioned her head in their direction. Such an obvious question from a being like Sorentho was beneath him, unless he was trying to lead her to something.

"This world was a battlefield, where the Oro Alliance, Shafaq Cabal, Black Dragon Syndicate and Black Tiger Society fought a decisive battle with a race of beings whose hyper-technology made them almost godlike. Those beings had sought hegemony of the local cluster of galaxies and threatened the survival of several species both biological and non-biological. As such, the Janthril Warmaster responded."

"The Janthril Warmaster?"

"The greatest living one, and the last, for the Grand Matriarch of the Janthril Dynasty merged the powers of the Warmaster's office with her own. All who followed him now follow her. The Grand Matriach of the Janthrils is my sister."

"So what does this have to do with my presence here?"

"It is an illustration of… atrocity. This is what I want to show you, as a warning of what you entangle yourself with. The last Warmaster was the greatest of all, inspiring fanatical loyalty among all who encountered him. He fought on the front lines as he did at the rear, treating all as equals before him. He not only won the wars, but he won the peace, unlike say…the Americans of your Earth, led by that warmonger who takes his name from some lesser form of topiary. The Warmaster could win a war without fighting, yet he was ruthless when it was demanded of him. This species that threatened and oppressed others, they had an empire that stretched across galaxies. This world is the only remnant of their entire race."

"Why did he destroy them?"

"A reason that I will not give, because you will not understand. You are only human, and my answer will be beyond you. However, he did it reluctantly. All this was done on the orders of my mother, of whom he was a consort. The former Grand Matriarch." Sorentho stretched out his hand to encompass the scene before them. "As for the sand you sit on…it comes from glass. Glass made by melting the bones of every single member of that species to create this memorial to them. You are sitting on the ashes of an entire civilization that deserved life but did not receive such compassion from my father."

Raven immediately got up, levitating herself off the sand, dusting it off her, her face as calm as she could make it. Then, she heard _it_.

_The screams of a billion billion souls screaming in utter agony as their world died. The roar of entire cities as they crumbled beneath the force of the orbital bombardment. The final gasp of the very last member of the species as he crawled before the figure of the Warmaster, face concealed by shadow._

_Death Incarnate. Beyond death, or life or eternity or infinity. The scream cut short as Rukt shredded his body with but a touch and the Warmaster sent his soul onward._

_Memories. The wind twisting in upon itself as the atmosphere was incinerated on the charnel house of a planet, the sky black with ash._

"Beware my father as much as you should be wary of me and my brother, for we have the same ruthlessness. You tread a thin path Raven, caught on the edge of utter failure and victory. The future is disrupted, for the others block my sight of it, a nexus I cannot see beyond, but all I sense is conflict and an intersection. You will lose a friend, but gain a brother closer than any other could ever be."

_You will gain an imperfect human being who will love you, who makes the choice to love you, even though he knows he will die._

_You will gain a lover, with eyes blue like a dark sky, and you will have his daughter, and bring Hope into life._

_You will gain a people, the Assagai, and become a leader, because you will lead them to victory in their darkest night._

_You will save the world from itself and end its despair._

Sorentho looked on as Raven gave a brief gasp and closed her eyes. To her, it would be nothing more than a fragmented dream, one she would remember years from now when she needed to remember it.

He slowly disappeared from view, as they returned to her mindscape with the stars of Azarath visible on high. But Urenor was not done. He knelt down next to her and whispered into her ear something that she was never meant to know, for it would have displeased his father.

_You will be his anchor when all else fails. For though you were born of shadow, that is where light shines brightest._

_Raven… you will become my father's light. Save him when no one else can. I beg of you._

_His love for my mother Grace was destroyed when she died in flames before our eyes. His love for Chayara Janthril the woman was beautiful but never intended to be. It was corrupted and ripped from him by his duty. By the Grand Matriarch Chayara Janthril._

_He has loved many women, and they him. But please, do what no one else has chosen to do and save him. He is an Imperial Ulthaj, hidden and waiting, the greatest of all. He carries Shath'Hal and master's Rukt. He will become the bearer of Khallusk, Mogathor and Karul. He is the savior of my kind, the one to face the Great Devourer and free the Ulthaj of the burden upon us._

_Please… save my father from the cruelty he imposes upon himself. Save him from himself._

_But at the end of all things, at the end of despair, when he comes back to you, he will have made mistakes as a man._

_Save him. For the Raven Queen is not only meant to be the one who is queen of Nightwing's heart…_

**WWW**

_**The darkness before the dawn is coming…**_

_**The Tides of Wrath are rising…**_

_**The shape of the world will change in the times to come, and only those who are awakened from the dream shall see through the veneers of reality.**_

_**The Great Devourer lies imprisoned, waiting for its lone child to free it.**_

_**A prodigal brother returns, he who haunts Ahriman's dreaming.**_

_**The man of machine and nerve will have his mind concluded.**_

_**The Winged Warrior of Night will be but flesh and faith, his loyalty to the Fire of Stars admirable but deluded. A hopeless love, though far sweeter is the parting than what we experienced.**_

_**The tides of shadow and darkness will gather around the Titans of Light, but the one who is the spirit of the darkest times before the dawn fights on their side, bound by love and duty to the Jewel of Scathe.**_

_**Time to make a choice, Azaluhaiz. Time to make a choice…Warmaster.**_

Az woke up breathing heavily, as he saw the runes once more glowing. That which lay within, his truest selfdom, was warning him.

He shivered slightly at the mention of the Great Devourer, the Nightmare of the Ulthaj. The being whom he had long ago battled before the Omniverse was made, when the Ulthaj in their arrogance had arisen to face the Creators and Prime Creator, sundering Creation and Existence apart, laying even oblivion to waste. A tale that he would tell Raven the tale of, in a future not so far away.

Battles he could barely remember, could not and should not remember. The entity within was playing with him.

He drew Raven closer to him. The pain within eased slightly, but remained, dissipating into his awareness. The runes faded as he breathed in her scent and kissed her neck lightly. She snuggled closer.

But he was not at ease.

_Shafaq has to exist once more._

_To protect the light, from within must be born the shadow._

**WWW**

The day passed in a slight daze to Victor. After the initial talk with Sarah, he'd calmed down and tried to be as rational as possible, though at times he failed.

Anyone accompanying her was out of the question. Robin himself has posed it to Blackfire, only to be told multiple times, very firmly, that such a thing was out of the question. They'd only stopped when they noticed a granite paperweight that belonged to Dick had begun to crumble in her grip, in direct accompaniment to the grinding teeth she displayed. The fact that her eyes were glowing a reddish purple had been another clue as well.

While they would have to make use of the remaining time, Cyborg also felt he had a duty to the team. As the acknowledged second-in-command, should anything ever happen to Robin, he would have to plan on her _replacement._

Nothing could ever replace Starfire, but they needed someone with her skill set as well as a suitable personality that they could live with, someone with similar drives, values and a personality that could fit into the team.

Like any team, there were 'A' personalities of high competence and drive but also dominating by their charisma. Robin was one of them. So was Cyborg. However, they functioned smoothly because of the understanding among them, and the presence of BB as the 'lubricant' of the team, using humor to dissipate tension. Raven and Starfire provided balance, Raven by her cautious, analytical personality and mystic powers, Starfire with her impulsive habits, passion and station as the physical powerhouse.

Az just kind of went along with the flow and tended to be the generalist who tended to support them, but a wildcard nonetheless. His personality, as far as Cyborg could see, was like water.

Tranquil and unperturbed, but roused into action like a storm. He'd never yet seen him angry, aside from that time where his body had glowed with the mark of 'Janthril'; a name he and Raven had failed to find references to in any database. His capabilities were considerable but still unknown, though BB had nominated him, in more jovial times, as the 'Team Member Most Likely to Kill' and 'Hardcore Titan Asskicker'.

Along with the rest of Titans East when they'd met him. After an encounter in Steel City, two Shadow League assassins of the same caliber as David Cain had surrendered to the police in a state of hysteria.

As for the details, Cyborg didn't know. The two assassins were currently undergoing psychiatric treatment at a prison hospital under guard for _extreme_ post-traumatic stress disorder. The video cameras in the office where Az had encountered them had all skipped over the time frame, with mysterious anomalies recorded on the hard drives. Uncharacteristically, the normally energetic fighter had been terse and irritable instead of his tranquil state, complete with poker face.

With the loss of Starfire, they needed a powerhouse, one who could contribute to the team as much as Star had. If not in personality, at least in capability.

Off the top of his head, his candidate list included Jinx. A former villain, she'd been vetted by others she'd worked with and with her came a bonus in Kid Flash, who's switched his name to Impulse, on Jinx's persuasion.

Bart Allen was based out of Los Angeles to the south and covered San Diego and San Francisco, though he occasionally made forays into Jump if the Titans needed him. By recruiting her they gained another powerful mystic and her boyfriend if need be.

His other candidate was Supergirl, though whether her cousin would approve was a different matter. Somehow or other, he seemed to prefer her to live out in a farm in Kansas, tucked away in Smallville. With her, the power set they gained was obvious. The problem lay in whether her cousin was actually willing enough to let her serve with them.

The third candidate was a relative newcomer based out of Miami in Florida who'd done occasional work with Argent in the South Pacific and Africa. A cousin of Wonder Woman of the Justice League, she more or less had the same set of powers as Wonder Woman but to a lesser degree. Donna Troy, a girl born of Man's World but raised on Thermyscira.

"A hell of a choice…" were his only words.

It would be a defining moment for all of them, for even with the losses, life went on. It was a wheel that did not stop for anyone, even for the greatest of heroes. The Titans as an institution would endure. The people would change, but their purpose wouldn't.

Just as Garfield Logan had gained back Tara Markov, Richard Grayson had to lose Princess Koriand'r of the Itasic Dynasty.

**WWW**

Ascanio sniffed silently in contempt as he read the report. Cyrus Creed harboured ambitions far beyond his station. So did many other members of the Ahriman Society. He and his favoured toy, Joculare, were becoming _problematic._

As such, it was his job to deal with them. He flexed his new arm, his new body still adjusting to its enhancements. In the attack by the Kratos Force on the Brotherhood's cryogenic prison, he had suffered 4th degree burns over his entire body, as well as crippling injuries to his spine.

Rather than use stem cell therapy, he had requested to have his body regrown around his brain and enhanced with extensive cybernetic enhancements, boosting his intelligence quotient and reactions. They had even bioengineered his body to have an accelerated healing factor and regenerative properties potent enough that he could regenerate severed limbs and organs.

His new body, while lacking the bulk of his former one, was far more streamlined and deadly, with greater strength by virtue of reinforced bones and muscle fibres, along with his practice of chi kung. Complementing this was the fact that he was strong enough to lift 6 tons at his upper limits and survive multiple hydrostatic shock (more commonly known as bullet) wounds, and he was quite happy about it.

The indoctrination of the freed prisoners had been going on well, with several implanted with DNIs (Direct Neural Interfaces). They served the twofold purpose of allowing direct access to electronic network wirelessly, as well as ensuring loyalty in the event of betrayal.

Jean Shadix, better known as 'The Brain', had been given leeway in genetic research and the use of bioweapons, provided with sufficient funding and enough facilities to satisfy even the most deranged mad scientist. To say the least, Ascanio was disgusted with how the gorilla and him had taken to an _intimate_ relationship.

A man engaging in sexual congress with a gorilla, either receiving anal sex or more often giving it, as all the video records had shown so far, was not a sight he wished to see again. It was far more pleasurable to enjoy the scent of a woman who had prepared herself for you, as he did his concubine.

General Immortus had been executed after attempting to turn a regiment of Bhagatur and Alyp against the Society. Charismatic as he was, his incompetence against the Titans was a sign of senility and weakness. What _idiot_ of a commander led a charge against superhumans with energy projection powers, wielding a sword and not even bothering to train his soldiers to use basic tactics such as fire movement, flanking and usage of the environment?

The Titans had been on the Brotherhood's territory, with the defenders having the advantages of numbers and home ground, and still they had lost. His claim of having Sun Tzu as a student was laughable, for Sun Tzu was the one who had defeated him. A laughable excuse of a man, Lord Imperial Derman had personally seen to his execution, reducing the pathetic immortal to ashes with a touch of his hand.

Captain Zahl on the other hand, he could respect. A competent professional who was calculating in the field, a proficient strategist and administrator who could get the job done, he was a consummate professional who had no time for politics. It was a wonder that the Brotherhood had not seen his value in their command structure.

Madame Rouge was ambitious, to say the least. He had formed a mutual respect with her as well as a carnal relationship. The fact that she had total body control on a macro level was appealing, as it made for rather interesting sexual positions. She shared a ruthlessness he admired, but was cautious of her all the same. She was still under probation and her mindset had not yet changed, for she recklessly sent the men assigned to her command into hazardous situations.

Of that, Lord Gurenon had chastised her. Heavy casualties were _not _acceptable to the Society. How they conducted themselves in the world was reflective of what they were aiming for: A world at peace, under the guidance of the Lord Imperial.

To achieve that, one had to have strength to confront the governments of the world, economic and military. Just as the Americans and British both had built commercial empires in their time, so would the Lord Imperial build an empire of ideas and peace through the tools of commerce and trade.

Not in Ascanio's lifetime for sure, if he chose not to extend it, but all the same, it would be achieved, over the centuries, over the millennia. They just had to save humanity from themselves first. They carried the long term view of humanity and its welfare as their prime concern.

As the Lord Imperial had poetically told all those closest to him, his chosen disciples, his Alyp senior commanders, his Bhagatur:

"_Green mountains and fields. __Rich lands where no one starves. No one freezes nor gets wet in the evening dew. A time of peace. No worries about starving or being in war. I want a peaceful world. Something I've always wanted. When parents don't have to abandon their children to survive. When the common man can enjoy life instead of endlessly working to support his family and enjoy the fruit of his labour._

_This is the world I want to create. Don't you?"_

For this dream, perhaps unrealistic as it was, was something that attracted Ascanio. He may have been a monster, acknowledging that within himself. He had killed professionally, as his job, his duty. He did not deny he had killed children, though not without regret. Sacrifices were necessary.

Ideals were a luxury he could not afford in seeking to make this worthy dream true.

He imagined a world where young boys did not have to starve on the streets, nor have to beg or borrow or steal to survive, as he had done before the Mafia had adopted him. That was a world worth fighting for.

Yet, to achieve that, he would kill and slaughter as many as he was ordered to. To achieve wealth and have power, all done in service to the Lord Imperial. This was now his purpose.

To that end, he would make it a better place, by orchestrating the downfall of Cyrus Creed.

**WWW**

Joculare laughed, giggling brightly as the woman slowly choked to death. He tightened the cloth across her neck, felt the spasms of her body as it finally gave up the struggle to breathe, then held it for longer, before letting it collapse.

Cyrus had given him a task. Attract the Titans to where he was and detonate his special bomb, leaving the rest to the Titans themselves.

He grinned, imagining the humiliation they would endure. He'd chosen a conveniently located bank in the centre of the city, where the police had converged to deal with the hostage crisis he had precipitated. As expected, media were converging at the edges, while a certain city official cowered beneath the counter.

The bomb was a powerful concoction of psionically charged dust that imprinted an overwhelming lust on the person, followed by a powerful lust spell, on top of sex pollen delivered by Poison Ivy.

In short, a 3-in-1 combination that was guaranteed to make even the most impotent man 'a raging sexual tyrannosaurus', in the immortal words of the first Predator movie.

Now, all he had to do was wait and watch. There were so many ways one could attack an opponent, and character assassination was perhaps among the most effective. He didn't even have to kill anyone.

Joculare sneered to himself.

Well… maybe just a few.

**WWW**

It was in the late afternoon when the alarm came in, that Joculare had taken hostages in the commercial district. In the rush that followed, Robin only had time to take his own respirator. It had been a new rule he'd decided to institute, on reflection.

God knew how many villains had decided to use chemical and gas based weapons for all sorts of purposes. Of course, he also made the assumption that the other Titans would have remembered.

Looking back, he saw Raven and Starfire on the left of the T-Mobile, with the Tiger on the left. BB was on the way with Terra from the south. Up till now, the people of Jump City were still unaware of the name of their latest protector, and Robin was quite sure Az liked it that way. Earlier, he'd casually mentioned that he was changing his name to Shafaq, without really explaining why. All Robin knew was that it was a Persian word.

Many times, people in the media had criticised his costume, saying it made him look like a villain. In fact, among the Titans, Robin and Shafaq were similar in that they were the only ones with secret identities. Obviously, Raven, Cyborg, Starfire and Beast Boy more or less wore their identities openly. Superheroics _was_ their life.

Robin had a life outside of heroics, one he had shared with Starfire a few times on visits to Gotham. So did Az, though it was something he chose not to share with them. Robin had discreetly followed him a few times to a fighting gym at the beach district, the Dalibor Fighting Academy. The company he kept was composed of an interesting group, to say the least.

But upon return, a handwritten note to him, left in a supposedly burglar-proof safe designed tested by Bruce himself in his private study, had told him in polite language that his antics were unappreciated.

The relationship between them was cordial, though never exploding into the open hostility and suspicion that he had expressed to him in the beginning. Robin almost felt as if his opposite wanted things another way. Still, the offer of training stood, and he would take it. To grow in skill, to grow as a person, to learn from a person possessed of that level of skill, was something only a damn fool would pass on.

But his priorities right now were Starfire and his immediate imperative was dealing with a demented clown.

Over the team network he sent the standard message. By now it was tradition.

"Titans. Go."

**WWW**

The scene at the bank was one of silence, as the police had formed a tight cordon around the entire block. Helicopters hovered overhead while the SWAT team remained on standby. Police snipers had attempted to take several shots but through sheer misfortune, all their shots had failed to find their target and instead hit the hostages, who'd been dressed to look like him.

Only when informed by anonymous sources of Joculare's probability shifting abilities had they decided an entirely different approach was called for. The SWAT team was not equipped or trained to handle metahuman threats, much less a mad clown using a chemical weapon that killed in seconds.

However, the clincher that more or less made the Titans the team of choice was when several police officers and journalists had noticed shimmering pockets of air among them and within the building. On closer inspection, they had seemed solid but had subsequently moved away from the inspecting personnel.

A police copter had consequently switched to thermal imaging and the resulting image had forced a rapid withdrawal from the immediate area of the bank. Several humanoid robots were optically camouflaged and had hidden among the various police personnel, scanning information and sending it back to a receiving unit. – in this case, Joculare.

What they didn't know was that they were not under his control. If they had been, they would have been dead when they first arrived. Joculare was not one to think through his actions, after all.

It all simply meant that he knew their plans and the disposition of their forces, forcing them to change their entire approach as they retooled themselves and activated the Metahuman Threat Team. However, all of this required time, and the lives of hostages were at risk.

Robin stood on the roof of the building overlooking the entire block, a police sniper team maintaining overwatch. The plan was simple; enter via the ventilation system. The normal humans, Shafaq and Robin, would stealthily infiltrate via the vents and enter the main lobby by that route, while Starfire and Cyborg performed a frontal assault.

Raven would phase in by herself and flank them, while Terra and BB took the underground route, tunnelling beneath the bank. Behind them would come the police, covering behind riot shields, whose first priority was rescuing the hostages while the Titans and police snipers dealt with the threat presented by the robots.

In the immortal words of BB, they would violate Joculare's posterior with impunity while Starfire and Cyborg took the front. He had described the plan in a rather pornographic but comical manner that involved mention of the term 'triple penetration' over the tactical net.

The subsequent howling from Cyborg, Terra and Starfire had drowned out any chance of intelligent conversation for several minutes.

The police however, were sombre. Due to the unprecedented nature of the situation, normal tactics of physical and psychological intimidation could not be used. Usually, in such a situation, concussion and stun grenades would be used, as well as multiple entry points, in an attempt to overwhelm the opponent in the psychological and sensory arena. However, such tactics did not work with robots which were not vulnerable to the same weaknesses. Still, with the Titans, they had a very good chance of pulling off something that would normally get them killed.

Slowly, they began to move forward as the signal was given. The surprise was about to be sprung.

**WWW**

Joculare waited impatiently, the corpses of five hostages surrounding him. His fingers twitched as a hostage made a cry upon making eye contact with him, looking away in abject fear.

He restrained himself, for Lord Cyrus had given him exact orders. He was not to take any more lives.

_I tire of serving that man. No fun at all. At least I'll get to entertain myself with the Titans. But my greatest wish…ah, to once more fight that Asian from the hospital. He owes me my manhood, and I his eyes. What was his name…Idimmu. Perhaps we will meet again.__ And that delectable little girl…saved by that man…_

He was a liability that had to be gotten rid off, though he didn't know that. He had served his purpose well enough to Cyrus Creed but had attracted too much attention from the wrong people, among them the Titans and Batman.

As he turned to the left, a sudden clanging in the vents gave way to a devastating explosion as something black dropped through the vents along with another figure cloaked in red and green.

"Batman and Robin?" asked Joculare incredulously, before beginning to smile. It looked like the game could begin.

"No. Robin and his sidekick –" Robin replied through his respirator, but his reply was lost as an explosion shattered the glass plates in the lobby, with smoke pouring through. Starfire and Cyborg had begun the attack.

With a whir of servomotors, the Fedayeen androids went into action. Optically camouflaged, they were not the attack models that the Titans had first encountered in the harbour weeks ago. They were Type-3 Recon models, with titanium alloy chassis, optical camouflage and inbuilt 7.62 mm cannons on their arms, a shoulder mounted 5.56 mm assault cannon and a 40 mm automatic grenade launcher in their chest cavity.

Robin could see their movement through the whirling smoke that highlighted their forms, as another explosion echoed through and several Fedayeen were sent flying through the air, propelled by telekinesis. The screams of the hostages were quickly silenced as Raven cast a spell to sedate them. The vapours whirled around her, for a moment making her look like an ethereal being of vengeance, before the illusion disappeared as she moved back into action, levitating as many of them as she could away. Predictably, Shafaq moved in her direction.

The Fedayeen shared a common network and database, their previous encounter with the Titans already stored for future reference. Seeing a pattern repeating itself, they accordingly adjusted their plan, as they tried to manoeuvre the Titans into entering the bank vault, where the bomb was located.

They shifted rapidly, avoiding the star bolts and sonic resonance charges of Starfire and Cyborg, before their sensors picked up seismic vibrations from _beneath_ them.

In a roar of crumbling steel and concrete, Terra burst through the floor, followed by a green mastodon that charged into the assembled bulk, trumpeting in fury and trampling the androids beneath its feet.

Disengaging swiftly, the Fedayeen withdrew and opened fire.

**WWW**

The storm of bullets beat upon Raven's telekinetic screen like a drum, grenades detonating against it.Knowing their priorities, the Fedayeen targeted the hostages, shielded by the police who dragged them away. Those units too damaged to continue teleported away, intent on self-preservation.

While the Ahriman Society was rich, it saw no point in wasting resources needlessly, the programming imperative of self-preservation a result of that philosophy.

Floating slabs of rock and concrete formed a formidable defence, as Terra and Raven worked together to deflect and absorb as much of the firepower as they could away from the hostages and the police.

Through holes in the screen, Cy opened fire, the concentrated charges of his sonic resonance cannon throwing back many or causing their shells to fracture.

Slowly, the Fedayeen disengaged and drew back further, luring the Titans into the trap. The nanopaste within their shells bled out, sealing the cracks in their armour and ensuring their continued survival, at least until the mission was complete.

In the centre of what was fast becoming a maelstrom, Robin lashed out with his staff. He swung it in glittering arcs before bringing it down on a robot. Hard.

The staff was made of a titanium-steel alloy. The robot was composed of a superalloy of titanim, steel, tungsten and molybendum. Along its midline fracture lines appeared, as it endured stress beyond its limits.

Robin pulled it back, thrusting it at the androids face. Faster than his eyes could see, it grabbed the staff and twisted, as the material splintered under the force. Now disarmed, he moved back, dodging and evading blows powerful enough to crack his bones.

He sidestepped a vicious kick that barely missed, landing right where the androids wanted him. A powerful leg, servomotors whirring in action, sent a limb stomping down on his foot.

All Robin saw was a blur of motion before the leg was sent flying, black nanopaste geysering in the air as the android unbalanced and fell. He glanced at two ninjaken impaled in the wall, the blades glinting through the smoke.

A sudden blur of alloy and plastics slammed into the wall next to him as Az collided with him.

"Appreciate being nominated as your sidekick. Take my blades and use them well. I'll need them back after we're done."

Robin pulled the two ninjaken out of the wall, holding them in a crossed guard in front of him, one forward with another near his face. The edges glinted blue, the ornate craftsmanship of the blades obvious in the acid-etched engraving in the metal.

Of course, that was not his main point of focus. They were currently surrounded by at least ten of the Fedayeen androids, scanning their bodies for any sign of action.

Back to back, Robin and Shafaq looked on at them. Grabbing a module from his belt, Shafaq extended it into his signature sabrestaff, blades glittering blue before reverting to dull silver. The nanomechanical blades extended the length of his body, as he held it crossed in front of him, his other hand wielding a customised Steyr TMP, Rhosyn.

"Ready when you are, Robin."

"Ok. On my mark... **charge**!"

Shafaq swung his saberstaff in a violent arc that bisected an android, cleaving it apart in a diagonal line through its midsection. He covered Robin as he swung his blades, Robin letting out a ferocious cry as he swung the blades in glittering arcs, deftly parrying blows and hacking through alloy and circuitry.

Falling into line, Shafaq took up a supporting position, defending the flanks and rear while Robin hacked his way to the safety provided by the others.

**WWW**

Starfire looked up as she heard a vicious yell cut through the air. The amount of gunfire thrown their way had lessened considerably when the two had begun to fight hand to hand with the Fedayeen.

Like a warrior of legend, blades wet with the black nanopaste of the androids, Robin somersaulted through a break in the melee, followed by Az charging like a bull through the mob, the maelstrom raging all around him. The sudden eruption of gunfire behind them punctuated a change in the tactical environment.

Police and SWAT flooded in, sheltering behind riot shields, as the Metahuman Threat Units responded with a vengeance. Armoured within bulky new powered suits that enhanced their strength enough to lift 2 tons and survive a glancing blow from anti-tank rounds, they picked their targets and opened fire.

Within seconds the Fedayeen began to fall back under the sheer amount of firepower directed their way. However, through all the noise and smoke, Starfire saw their target.

_Joculare._

**WWW**

"That did not go well..." Joculare mused to himself.

The Titans were proving to be a formidable adversary. Losses had been greater than expected, and the presence of Terra had been an element that had not been foreseen.

His escape plan was simple; utilise the tunnels built beneath the bank to prevent people tunnelling into the bank vault to escape to the street. He was no stranger to the use of sewers but he found them unhygienic, to say the least.

He squatted down and popped several pills of meth, the effect serving to calm him. After years of abuse, his body was saturated with various narcotics and his neurochemistry and biochemistry were significantly different to the human norm. To illustrate, paracetamol had the effect of rendering him berserk and horny at the same time.

He patted the bomb, a briefcase size device beside him, as the androids flooded into the room and dispersed. Some teleported away while others disappeared through the tunnels leading to the sewers and street.

Robin was the first Titan to enter, wielding two swords of oriental design. Joculare calmly stood there before dodging to the left. He felt for the threads of luck, instinctively going for the one that he desired.

Several bullets missed him, fired by the Black Tiger. He giggled slightly as they penetrated a droid's processing cavity. The star bolts followed, causing the ceiling to collapse around their points of impact. He had to admit, their accuracy was worthy, but his luck worked to make sure he stayed alive.

Taking the briefcase, he swung it into Robin's sternum and winded him, before shoving it into his arms and pressing the detonator.

A dart hit him. As he sprinted to the safety of the street, the holographic disguise already activating, he pulled it from the point on his shoulder and threw it away.

He had seen the effects of the bomb in a home for the elderly and had no intention of staying. Even one who kills because they enjoy it has certain limits.

**WWW**

Cyborg retracted the dart gun into his chest cavity, sure that the subdermal ant-size tracking chip would allow for Joculare's later capture.

He heard a beeping from the suitcase held in Robin's grip, before Az ripped it from him and hurled it to the far corner of the room. Raven held it in a telekinetic bubble, strong enough to hold in the force of the explosion.

The briefcase activated and with a puff of gas, detonated with the force of a grenade. Raven let it hang in the air for a few seconds before levitating it to the far corner of the room and dropping it.

As the screen dissipated, a vast cloud of chemicals and gas filled the room. Using her arm to cover her mouth, she pulled back as the bomb squad rushed in, sealed in their protective suits.

For the Titans, it was far too late...

_**Beta Reader's comments:**__In the name of Holy Wibble, I cannot actually believe you are doing this to them! Ah, well; it's not my place to contravene the will of the Divine Author. At least the next chapter is now a lot more likely to be fun, after all this dreariness.)_


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 23**

_I do not seek to understand women. No man should. The best policy is simply to listen, since women always seem to have so muc__h to say… and pray to the highest powers that they don't ask you to repeat it back to them._

_Quoted from Cogitor Izual Kazuaki IV, fourth generation clone descendant of the Lord Damon Kazuaki, 1__st__ Protector of the Raven Queen and Interim Governor of the former USA (Dominion Territories of North America; under rulership of the Crown of England)_

_Women? Having multiple wives, I have only this to say. [Silence_

_Interview from TIME Archives, upon interview of Kassim Al-Rashid, the Dog of War, before his death in the 3__rd__ Apokoliptan Battle for Earth_

**Interestingly enough, no quotes from women on the subject of men are included here.**

**WWW**

The lust spell was an area effect spell. Simply put, it charged one's body with the creative energies of sexuality, drawing from the wellspring of life. It was not black magic, but rather sex magic. Technically speaking it could be called white magic, in that it led to creation.

Combined with sex pollen that was in essence a hyper-aphrodisiac that drove one to copulate as much as possible within a short time frame, this was on top of the psionic imperative that broadcasted a psychic command. The command was simple.It erased any form of rational thought from a person for a period of time, making the only thought that of sex.

All of this was guided by a cunning intelligence, seeking to deposit its energies into the nearest prey and be released from its servitude.

Of course, the Titans only knew this afterwards.

**WWW**

Raven felt the burst of energies, just as the bomb squad stopped short. The vapours were taking a particularly strange colour that she associated with decidedly eldritch energies. They formed into streams, charging up and flowing with great rapidity towards any and all people close by.

On reflex she generated a barrier within the room, blocking the probing streams of energy from escaping. They deflected off the barrier. The policemen raised their guns. They didn't know how to respond, but men with guns usually see all problems as solvable with a little finger work.

Like a snake questing for its meal, the streamers turned around, before coalescing into a single stream and heading _straight for Robin_.

"Azarath Metrion ZINTHOS!" Raven incanted, forming another barrier between the coursing stream and Robin.

She didn't notice Az moving closer to her, blades at the ready. Beneath his mask, his eyes were twitching as he felt the _power_ rise within him, settling just beneath his conscious mind.

**WWW**

_You suppress so much, don'__t you Azaluhaiz? Good and evil; passion, kindness, rage, ambition… all emotions, in fact. That is me, and I am you, however much you deny me. You only pose as a human, and you know it. I am beyond mere humanity. __**We**__ are beyond it._

_Say what you must and be gone _

_I know exactly what this is. I know exactly how to deal with it. It won't harm your... excuse me, __**our**__ team; our friends. We would not allow it. But I will be taking actions, and you will simply have to deal with them. Have an enjoyable night... Azaluhaiz of the Imperial Ulthaj._

**WWW**

The stream felt the barriers around it, seeking, searching for its prey. It started to become desperate, as the energies that sustained it began to ebb. Suddenly, it felt the source of the power blocking it weakening in strength. The sex pollen began its work.

Throughout their bodies, their biochemistry shifted. Chemicals made their way through their glands, adrenaline and testosterone flooding their bodies. Sex hormones of androgens, estrogens and progesterone inundated their systems.

The psionic pulse was then released as the intelligence shifted it to the epicentre of the room, concentrating its energies on the female minds in particular. After all, the women here were so much stronger than their male counterparts, perhaps mentally, definitely emotionally. A sexually aroused woman was more potent, able to generate so much more energy than a man, sustaining herself far longer than the male.

Unlike males, women were far richer in tantric energy built up from a lack of intercourse. Essentially they were ripe pickings for _it_ to feed upon. From them, its final release could be achieved, sufficient even to overpower the ever weakening shields.

**WWW**

Terra looked on as a glazed look overcame Raven's face, the black shield slowly fading as the streams of energy circled back. Suddenly they lashed out, slamming hard into Terra, Raven and Starfire, the shields fading to nothing.

Terra was suddenly overcome with a burning throughout her body as she looked at Beast Boy. He reeled back, leaning against the wall and sweating profusely, beads dripping down his face over the stubble above his lips.

_Flowing into his shirt._

_Fresh green skin, ripe with muscle and blood. He moved, the shirt accentuati__ng his frame. Toned and young…_

_Flesh sculpted to perfection, green skin glinting in the light of the vault. __Flesh that promised delicious torture. His manhood bulged against the fabric, virile and ready for her use. To plough her; to seed her with its perfection. To take her. To ravish her…_

She gripped herself tightly as explicit sexual images flooded her mind. She felt an uncontrollable urge to rip off Gar's clothes, to mark his flesh, to claim him for her own. Her hands slowly trembled as they reached downwards, to her womanhood. She stopped herself, trying to draw back… but the fire blazed ever more intensely.

Terra couldn't stop herself. Her body reacted of its own volition, nipples erect as her _body_ betrayed her, as her _mind_ betrayed her, the moisture seeping from her nether regions betraying her very state. Then she felt it, rising up through her, exploding outwards.

She screamed in release before falling to the ground, too weak-kneed to move, her legs shaking as she tried to recover. Through teary eyes she noticed Starfire slowly get up, her eyes glazed over before she caught up Robin in an embrace, stripping his clothes from him, his costume ripping as she peeled it off his body.

She turned to look at Beast Boy as her mind finally surrendered to its carnal imperative. She had about as much chance of resisting it as a gnat does an avalanche. In a single movement both had pinned the other to the ground, as mindless and hungry as the other was, their eyes filled with animalistic flames of lust.

**WWW**

"No, Star-"

Robin's protestations were abruptly silenced as Starfire clamped her mouth over his and proceeded to evacuate the air from his lungs with an industriousness that brought to mind a vacuum cleaner. He drew back his head, breathing in deeply, before a force like a freight train rammed into Starfire and chromium dust flew everywhere.

A sneezing frenzy overtook Starfire at the chromium. Robin felt a powerful shock through the ground as Shafaq slammed his knee into Starfire's gut, causing her to double over before he brought dual hammer fists down on her neck. In a split second, she was unconscious. Each blow literally shook the floor, the suit powering his enhanced strength.

Before Robin knew it he was slumped on the ground. Aziz compelled him to do so with a single word;

"_Sleep"_.

With all the force of his will behind it the command penetrated Robin's subconscious, forcing the inevitable. Such was the case with Terra and BB, before he turned his attention to Raven. However, Raven was not as easily put down as the rest.

As the spell had worked its way into Raven she had retreated, unable to handle the flood of emotions that burst forth into her consciousness. Gases and emotions have much in common: the more bottled up they are, the more volatile they become.

Like a dam bursting forth, her emotions had broken through the barriers of mental discipline, inundating her mind in excesses of sensations she could barely handle. For her own protection, her core self had retreated deep into the recesses of her mind, leaving the aspects most suited to handle the situation. Unfortunately for Aziz they happened to be Rage and Lust. One would have been bad enough, but these two were working together…

**WWW**

Cyborg simply stared at what was happening. He didn't know _what_ was happening, but he could see the effects well enough. The minute the spell had taken effect Az had seemingly gone berserk, as had the others.

The difference was that while the others had succumbed to raw sexual actions with their significant other, Az had instead succumbed to violence. Although Cyborg was having trouble believing that Aziz would turn on his own team-mates without a _very_good reason, he needed to know for sure. He pounded hard against the barrier that Raven had erected before drawing back and activating his sonic resonance canon.

Az signalled a vigorous chopping motion with his arm. Cyborg lowered his cannon, but not at Aziz's command. It was the sight beyond that gave him pause.

Cloaked in dark majesty, strips of shredded cloth and not much else, Raven levitated above him.

_Terrible and beautiful as the dawn, majestic as the twilight, treacherous as an ocean and stronger than the foundations of the world, the Jewel of Scathe reached out in her terrifying majesty_.

The fleeting vision was gone, replaced by one of Raven looking disturbingly sexual as she gripped Az in a cluster of black tendrils, peeling his armour from his body. It was the same one he'd worn on the jetbike, able to tolerate the heat of re-entry or the tremendous forces of acceleration, or for that matter, take the impact of a 300 ton weight. Her tendrils simply slipped underneath the material, tearing it apart from within as the suit was twisted apart from the outside.

Cyborg felt a pang of sympathy for Aziz. It must have been the second or third suit destroyed in the course of his service. Somehow he had a propensity for having his equipment destroyed, whether in the course of duty, or in this case by an angry lust-driven demon demigoddess. Still, such is life.

**WWW**

"Well, well, well. How do you feel to be naked before a goddess? Fearful? Scared? Awed? Such a _beautiful _body. We are Rage and Lust. We have been trapped within this shell far too long. Now, it is time that _we_ enjoyed ourselves." She tilted her head, letting her tongue taste his shuddering flesh, slick with gel from his broken armour.

_Delicious and young._

Az simply stared straight ahead, maintaining as straight a face as possible. Technically he was immune to magic, psionics and most metaphysical threats, the only thing actually able to threaten him being physical damage. However, the _power_ within had different ideas.

He had been celibate for the past two centuries, never once touching man or woman until recently. All of his suppressed sexual need was thus brought to the fore as he fought to control his body's reactions to the sex pollen.

Of his twenty streams of conscious thought, 18 were currently thinking about sex, one was currently trying to adjust his body's biochemistry to neutralise the sex pollen and dampen the effects, while the other was trying, _desperately_, to deal with a sexual urge bordering on insanity, as well as the feedback from Raven, Beast Boy, Terra, Robin and Starfire. Barriers of discipline crumbled as swiftly as he put them up, the lust a tide eroding away the granite of his mind.

The_other_ within him was not without a sense of humour, and so had decided to amplify the effects of the spell, instead of cooperating and granting him the immunity he needed. However, he wasn't angry. Indeed, it was hard to be angry when an attractive female whom he desperately wanted to ravish was biting his neck and enticing him, while struggling with the sexual frustration of over two centuries of celibacy.

The fact was he did _not_ want to give in. He had reasons that were perfectly rational and whose logic could not be denied. However, that was the fatal flaw in his premise. Lust was not a rationally derived emotion.

"Kiss me," she ordered. He complied.

However, he still had a trick up his sleeve…

**WWW**

_Embrasser avec la langue._ The poetic sounding French term that described a French kiss. A highly intimate kiss, it was also referred to in slang as tonsil hockey, tongue wrestling and numerous other terms.

However, the activity that was currently happening to Az was a rather more extreme version of tonsil hockey. Indeed, it was reminiscent of what one saw when brawls occurred in an ice hockey ring.

With no experience except knowledge from pillow books and various romance novels read furtively under her blankets, the Rage-Lust Raven was attacking his mouth with gusto. What she lacked in technique, she made up for in enthusiasm. Sucking his tongue, she noted the eyes that were glinting with something that approached a berserk lust.

Raven stopped, pulling back from him. She held his head immobile in the grip of her tendrils.

"My beautiful warmaster…you feel it don't you? The need, the hunger, the-"

She ceased to speak as her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. With that, the barriers collapsed and Cyborg rushed into the room. Az leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He stuttered with each breath, inhaling as deeply as he could.

"Cy, be careful...its – it's a l – lust spe –ll. Hard t – to –to control. Hard. So hard. Call... Impulse and Jinx. Hold the fort. Only a few – m - minutes before they wake up. The spell is strong."

With a groan he pummelled it into submission, as well as the wall beside him, before standing up straight. He maintained an air of dignity that few could carry off while naked, which made it even more impressive.

Going over to Robin Aziz ripped the cape off him and folded it into a sarong before taking off his shirt and using it to conceal his face, tying the sleeves tight behind his head. The smell of his sweat did not bother him in the least.

Cyborg busied himself with carrying Terra, Starfire and BB over his shoulders while Az tossed Robin over his shoulder. With Raven he was tender, one arm under her back and another tucked under her knees. Sweating profusely, he carried them to the T-Mobile. Beneath the makeshift shawl, his face was grim, the grinding of his teeth audible.

You must remember that Raven, still quite devoid of any clothing, was quite literally right under his very nose.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could resist…

**WWW**

Cyborg stared straight ahead as the sound of low moans came from the back of the car. He'd activated the tinting on the windows, rendering them opaque from the outside. He considered himself lucky, as both he and Az were most suited to resist the biological factor of the 'attack'.

He had mesobots currently purging his biological and cybernetic systems of the sex pollen, while a chemical buffer system in his secondary circulatory system, consisting of an artificial blood substitute coloured white, was able to halt the progress of the sex pollen and allow for the bots to neutralise it. The active charcoal filter that protected his lungs served him well enough that no pollen spores had infiltrated his lungs.

The Nth metal alloy that he and his father had recently patented allowed him to shrug off the magic spell, rendering it almost inconsequential to him. After the experience with Trigon, he'd wanted a protective element to shield him against magical threats, just in case. The police had already been forewarned and had taken to treating the bank vault like a mini-Chernobyl. They'd set up a manhunt for Joculare, for what good that might do.

Even in their unconscious state the four were writhing, unconsciously rubbing their bodies against each other. Starfire was already starting to recover, which did not bode well. In terse statements, Az had warned Cyborg to throw them into a cell, seal it and immediately find a competent mage, or at least someone who had a working comprehension of white magic.

He'd contacted Jinx and Impulse as soon as possible, left a message for Batman on his email - which was, incredulously enough, - and informed a woman called Edna Brown, some associate of Raven's, about the situation. The aim was to keep the situation as discrete as possible and handle things quietly. Joculare wasn't the only one who understood the mechanism of assassination by public image.

Cyborg looked out of the window to see Sky Blue racing ahead of them, seeking to get back to the tower as soon as possible. He felt his hands tremble before steeling himself, as the spell crackled over him. Sometimes, there _were_ advantages to being a cybernetic organism. While he could have children and did possess a sex drive, it was not vulnerable to psionic manipulation simply because, like his sense of humour, it was digitised. Sex looked absolutely ridiculous when you got it down to binary.

**WWW**

Cyborg literally threw them into the holding cells, a recent addition to the tower. Due to the police lacking the technology to restrain exceptionally powerful metahumans approaching Starfire's level of power, the Titans had a facility for short-term incarceration of such villains.

Not that they'd needed them until now. Given their prototype status they were still untested, but they were designed to hold a being of Starfire's physical power for at least twenty minutes, thick titanium-steel reinforced concrete with a honeycomb structure designed for maximum strength.

This was complemented by an external layer of elastic foam rubber that acted like padding to dissipate such great force applied to its surface. It also had an ionic shielding system that backed up the titanium bars of the cell, as well as a warding spell that disrupted magic and various forms of teleportation.

They similarly had a mixture of oleoresin capsicum (pepper spray), chloroacetophenone (CN gas; riot control agent) and 2-chlorobenzalmalanonitrile (CS gas; riot control agent) that were released from nozzles installed in the cells, as well as electrified fibres running through the wall.

However, these two key features weren't working, the shield hadn't been installed, the foam had barely been added and due to an error, the wrong concrete mix had been used, resulting in a cell that was about as strong as any standard jail cell, with walls as hard as granite.

Granite might as well have been plate-glass as far as Starfire was concerned.

All of this meant one thing; it would hold up Starfire for a minute, Raven not at all, Terra about a few seconds and Beast Boy, at most, five minutes.

Cy looked through the bars. His sensors told him of the entry of Batman into the tower, while transponders on Jinx's and BB's communicators told him of their arrival. Looking at his friends he activated the camera's to monitor them, retreating upstairs. He planned to contain the affected members in the detention facility as long as possible, and do whatever it took to control the situation.

Unfortunately, a small group of mice and men had something to say on the subject of plans.

**WWW**

Az trembled hard, staring through the bars at the still-unconscious Raven. She was just beginning to revive. He folded his legs into a full lotus and sat down, trying to clear his mind and meditate. However, it was utterly useless.

Usually, when a normal person tries to still one's mind, it is like a monkey banging about a cage. For Aziz, it was much worse. It was like trying to restrain a sexually rampant bull elephant on crack.

_Think peaceful thoughts. Think about...__ money. Money is green. Green is the colour of willpower, in this universe. Green is the colour of growth. Growth comes from life. New life is created through procreation. Procreation involves fornication, copulation and all fun manner of sexual activities._

_Damn. Ok. Try again._

_The Universe was created through the 'Big Bang'. Like an orgasm. Raven having an orgasm. __**No.**__ 2 centuries of celibacy. No big deal Az. It's just your inner self fucking around with your mind. Yeah. You were a married man. You've survived without it for centuries._

_Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs; sleep, breathing, excretion, wat__er, homeostasis &... sex. No. This is not working._

_Farm implements...__Pitchforks, Ploughs. Tractors. Hay making. Baler. Hay rake. Hay tedder. Mower. Conditioner. Conditioner flowing down Starfire's soft hair... Rolling in hay...We're not going to go there. _

_Food. Ok. Maybe that will work._

_Oysters. Puffer fish. Gingko biloba. Balut. Arugula. Borojo. Damiana. Gingko Biloba. Ginseng. Kelp. Maca. Spanish Fly. Tongkat Ali. Strawberries. Chocolate._

_What do they all have in common... all... rational linkage... they're all food products..._

_They're aphrodisiacs. Oh shit._

_This is not going to work..._

As for Robin, who had recovered by then, his train of thought was simpler. No matter what he did, it all went back to sex. Though it was nowhere as bad was what Shafaq was going through, it was bad enough. What he _did_ not have to deal with was the feedback of everyone else's sexual fantasies.

_Think about India. It has a population of 1 billion people. It's economy is large and growing... like my...__**No**__. There are 1 billion people because they invented the Kama Sutra and have sex..._

_Shit! Shit! __**Shit**__! Don't think about sex. __**Don't**__! You're the Boy Wonder of Gotham. Never mind. Start over._

_Think about China. It has 1.3 billion people, with an emerging economy that will serve as_ _an engine of growth in the world economy. People must have a lot of sex there..._

_Oh God! No. Japan. Yeah. Japan has sushi. Good... good. Good anime. Unagi. Eel. Squid. Tentacles. Hentai anime. Tentacle sex..._

_**ARGHHH!**_

_No. Think of my grandfather. All old wrinkles. Yeah. Wrinkles. I exist because of him having sex with my grandmother..._

_Um. Fuck, shit, damn and bugger.__ I don't want that image in my mind._

_I know. Think of...homosexuals. Oh. No. Not that sort of mental imagery. Come on. Fight it. __**DOWN BOY! DOWN!**_

_The power of Christ compels you!_

_No. Don't bring Jesus into this. You're a teenage Christian who hasn't gone to church in 3 years. Come on. Think. _

_Tai Chi. Yeah. Martial arts. Use my chi. Preserve my essence. Grow it. Spill it into a hot tight tunnel of womanhood..._

_No. That's __**not**__ working. Think of...farm implements!_

_You plough a field and sow your seed in it. Like how you plough a woman and sow your oats..._

_Damn!_

_This is __**really**__ not going to work..._

And so it went, as Robin struggled dearly against it. But it was to be for naught...

**WWW**

Raven licked her lips like a lion licking its chops as she awoke from the delicious dream. The Raven who was not Raven. Or was it the Raven who was the hidden one? Either way, it made no difference. She still had a nymphomaniac disorder that most psychoanalysts would kill to see.

She phased through the cell wall, only to run straight into the very person she wanted. A smirk lit up her face, slowly stretching into a predatory smile.

"Hello little bird. How do you taste I wonder? Starfire is _sooo_ selfish, not letting others share you. But me... well, I'm not so selfish. But here you are, all alone. Waiting for me."

Robin slowly backed up, fighting tooth and nail in his mind.

The air on his back suddenly felt very much like a wall. He was trapped.

"We should talk about our feelings Raven. I mean, I _was_ attracted to you, and you are a very pretty girl, but I'm attached. Never mind some ancient prophecies or breeding programs. I mean I'm attached, _irrevocably_," he quickly babbled, trying desperately to find an escape route.

He wanted to put a fair amount of distance between him and her before he ravished her. Kissed her and claimed her soft, succulent, inviting lips…

…lips which were already claiming his own as she pressed against him, greedily biting into his. He groaned as she rubbed against him, the friction both tortuous and wondrous beyond imagining.

"Raven..."

"What? Shut up-"

"This – is – not – you!" he said in between breaths, trying to ignore the sensations as she grabbed his testicles, fondling them in her hands, massaging and squeezing the fragile organs.

"I mean, I think I know. I don't _know_ I know. I don't think I know that I know. I think I know even though I don't think I know that it's not you…" He was reduced to a blathering mess as the kissing continued.

Their bodies melded together, joined at the hips, her hand softly fondling his groin. He gasped, his hands unconsciously pulling her closer, kneading the hot flesh of her thighs.

He gasped as she bit down hard on a nipple, using her powers to shred his costume apart, save his trousers. "Raven… stop… my girl… Starfire… sic you! She'll… we're friends… FIGHT IT!"

As illogical and incoherent as it sounded in his current frame of reference, Robin should have realized that threatening Raven with righteous vengeance from his girlfriend wouldn't have worked.

In between the kisses, Raven batted her eyelashes at him, girlish giggles emanating in the pauses between them; "My dear, sweet, young, luscious _boy wonder_… don't you realise that Raven is right in front of you fighting it? Poor, deluded boy. Such pretty eyes. Such adorable struggles. _Just give in._"

However, depending upon one's frame of reference, things were about to become better or worse for the Boy Wonder…

**WWW**

Cyborg, Jinx and Impulse watched the video feed with mouths agape. Starfire had just punched her way through the wall of her cell, intent on reaching Robin. She pried apart the bars like they were putty.

With a shove, she sent a concrete slab flying through Az's cell. She calmly walked to the cell containing Raven and Robin. Az raised an eyebrow. Starfire picked him up from his meditative position and kissed him, running her tongue over his lips. To Aziz's credit, he managed not to respond, his mouth a ruler-straight slash the entire time. She dropped him, sensing to reaction.

"You taste like danger, the forbidden fruit. So spicy and minty, but I like… vanilla," she sighed dreamily, before fixing a look on the scene of Robin and Raven embracing the other. Walking serenely to them, she ignored the bars. They might as well have been a bead curtain for her lack of effort.

Through glazed eyes she stared with deep lust at the two. Then she turned Raven around and kissed her full on the lips. Literally before Robin's eyes, a common male fantasy of two lesbians kissing each other was played out before him. Well, Raven and Starfire weren't really lesbians, but it was nice to pretend. They took their time, before they turned their attentions back to him.

"Raven, how do you think of sandwiches?"

"They are… exquisite," Raven replied, as both licked their lips hungrily. Their eyes turned to the object of their interest.

"What do you think of a Robin sandwich?"

Before Robin could offer his opinion on the matter of sandwiches he became the filling, pressed between Starfire in the front and Raven in the back. Abruptly he was silenced, each woman ensuring that he was kept occupied. In their respective opinions, Robin was better seen, touched and kissed, but not to be heard.

**WWW**

"Uh… can you replay that bit Cy – OUCH!" cried Impulse, jumping sideways. He rubbed his arm where he had been pinched, the skin red and tender.

"Next time I'm hexing you!" said Jinx irately. She gave him a murderous glance before turning back to the view on the screen.

Despite her reprimand of Impulse's impropriety, Jinx couldn't help but watch, her face flushed. She would glance at the video feed of Terra and BB before quickly looking away… only to have her eyes dragged back a few seconds later.

Cyborg watched and visibly blanched as he saw Terra's final piece of clothing removed and BB began to spontaneously grow tentacles.

That was his limit. He had seen many strange phenomena in his adventures, had eaten strange and disgusting things on alien worlds, and seen many bizarre traditions played out. What he did _not_ want to see was someone whom he regarded as his younger brother get laid and embarrass himself and his significant other in front of two other Titans, one of whom was trying to hide a visible erection in too-tight clothing from an already annoyed girlfriend.

It was at this juncture that Batman entered the room.

**WWW**

There are numerous advantages to being able to instantaneously rewrite one's genetic makeup, as Beast Boy no doubt knew. However, until very recently, he'd only approached these advantages from the point of view of changing his entire body. It had taken Terra's deviant fantasies to make him even contemplate changing his usual human form to more… exciting shapes.

Matters had gone _way_ past mere contemplation now. Terra looked up from where she lay on the floor, legs spread wide as a matter of course, and with that same dreamy look in her eyes saw Beast Boy work his particularly specialised brand of magic.

Tentacles were easy. Any shape-shifter could achieve tentacles. Beast Boy could also grow one or more extra fully-functioning penises, something that made Terra truly glad of her choice of sexual partner. The trick here was combining the two to create exactly the effect Terra fantasised about.

She watched in wonder as a multitude of thick green tentacles, all with rock-hard yet perfectly flexible skin, advanced on her naked, sweat-slicked body. Terra surrendered herself to them, even helping Beast Boy to secure his abnormally long genitalia on her body. One coiled tightly around her wrists, two others held Terra's legs up at her sides and another wrapped itself firmly around her midriff.

"I can't escape now," said Terra, looking directly at Beast Boy with that animalistic lust they'd both come to know and love. "You can do anything to me. Absolutely _anything_."

"But I don't want to do just _anything_ to you," growled Beast Boy. "I know _exactly_ what I want."

The tentacles that bound Terra hoisted her up into the air just in front of Beast Boy. Terra looked down excitedly as two of the extended penises positioned themselves between her widely spread thighs, just below the inappropriate holes. Her desperation mounted ever more with each passing second, but she felt compelled to ask:

"Not in my mouth? Not down my throat?"

"No," answered Beast Boy. "I want to hear you moan and scream."

"But you know how much I love it when you cum on my face," said Terra, lowering her voice by several sexy steps. "Please…?"

Compromising, the tentacle around Terra's middle snaked up between her quivering breasts. She watched it slip into place with obvious delight. Already it started sliding smoothly up and down through her cleavage. Terra became so mesmerised by the sight that saliva drooled out over her lips.

"Enough talk," said Beast Boy decisively. Terra snatched a deep breath before it began, anticipating-

The two penises below plunged deep into Terra on the very first stroke, going in as deep as they possibly could without causing her internal injury. Terra screamed at the pain, feeling as though Beast Boy's penises were ripping her apart from the inside. But she didn't ask him to stop. However grotesque or disturbing this display was, you could say conclusively it wasn't rape.

"That's a good little girl," said Beast Boy, sneering triumphantly. "Sing for me."

It only became more intense from there on in. The tentacles powered in and out of Terra with frightening speed; not even pistons were meant to drive this ruthlessly. Terra's screamed song of tortured sexual pleasure was unending. In the same way that a single beep played again and again in quick enough succession will sound like an unbroken tone, the noises that issued from Terra's gaping mouth melded into each other and spoke of a single idea: the relentless cycle of pleasure and pain that destroyed and recreated her with every new thrust.

The sweet liquids responsible for lubricating Terra's vagina were overflowing, dripping in a steady yet constant fall that collected in a pool on the cell floor. Her legs twitched involuntarily, overloaded by the sheer amount of sensory data that burst from between them; indeed, her entire body shook from the force with which Beast Boy pounded her again and again.

"Beast Boy!" said Terra, her voice run ragged by lack of breath and the fatigue that results from being slammed so vigorously. "I can't – don't stop – I'm going to-"

No words, no letters could be used to quote the sound that then emanated from Terra. The screams from before were naught but mere trifles compared to this. It was as if everything that Terra experienced as the orgasm took her was actualised in sound; the surge of unbounded feeling that blinded the eyes, deafened the ears and, however fleetingly, made Terra forget everything, even who she was, leaving in its place only the white-hot explosion of total satisfaction.

Although Beast Boy could have gone on for much longer without climaxing, he had plenty of other penises standing by which were aching to be used. He decided to come with Terra.

One of the other practical problems of combining a penis with a tentacle was the distance the semen had to travel. Beast Boy solved this by adding more of it and making it spurt out faster.

Deep inside Terra, the twin fountainheads suddenly erupted with cum, flooding her inside. The tentacle that had been pummelling Terra's breasts pulled up just in time to drench her face in viscous semen, spraying her face in off-white goo that completely covered her features like some sort of bizarre mask.

The penis-tentacles retreated from Terra's body. She was left breathing hoarsely, her heart jumping in her chest like a combustion engine. Although Terra had been holding herself up before, she now hung limply from the tentacles that held her prisoner, her head lolling listlessly with chin on chest.

From her anus and vagina flowed a waterfall of semen, joining her vaginal juices on the floor.

But it wasn't over. Opening her eyes through a thick layer of Beast Boy's cum and licking off as much as her nimble tongue could reach she looked up at him, that voracious look rekindling.

"Fuck me again."

Her voice was rough and harsh from all the screaming she'd inflicted on her throat. Beast Boy grinned viciously. This time he was going to cum so far down that selfsame throat that it would already be in her stomach.

"What did you think I was going to do?"

Like prey stalking a helpless victim, several more tentacles, still relatively dry and ready for action, closed in on Terra. She saw them coming, and was glad.

**WWW**

After the initial shock and a quick brief of the situation, maintaining a straight face throughout, Cyborg came up with a plan. In the meantime BB and Terra were once again unconscious, Az having knocked out both with a straight jab after being pulled into their cell by a combination of Terra's terrakinetic capability and slimy green tentacles originating from BB's pubes. Apparently, he did not wish to participate in a threesome that involved tentacles.

The image of BB kissing another man full on the lips was not something Cyborg or Impulse wanted to see again. Memories of the time they had watched the _uncensored_ Brokeback Mountain came to mind. Jinx, on the other hand, had been very far from minding, but would have most likely killed anyone who knew.

"Jinx, Impulse: you two will handle the situation in Robin's cell," ordered Cyborg briskly. "I'll handle this Edna Brown when she comes. Batman, do you have the antidote?"

Batman nodded slowly, eyes fixed to the image of his ward trapped between the two lusty women. The memories of previous encounters with the sex pollen came to his mind, of how Robin had fought to control it but lost.

He had been careless, had let Poison Ivy slip past him when she threw the grenade straight at them. Robin had grabbed it before it detonated, releasing the spores. Batman had been lucky, receiving a diluted dose of the pollen. Selena had slept with him of her own volition that night in an attempt to flush it from his system and make it easier for him, while Batgirl and Robin had to be secluded for their own safety.

It had been the first time of many that he slept with Selena. But she had left Gotham a few months later for Tokyo, leaving only a single message. _'Don't follow me.'_

His attention swiftly returned to the present. He opened his pouch and grabbed the vial containing the antidote. While it was effective, he wasn't entirely sure of whether it was capable of stopping the current orgiastic behaviour.

It was an entirely abnormal situation involving people with abnormal lifestyles that he was treating as it if were normal. He wondered how probable it was that, years later, the Titans would all look back on this and _laaaugh._

**WWW**

_Cyborg computed the results, observing__ the projections in his cybernetic eye. Starfire could survive, with some luck, but the others simply lacked the physiological resilience to withstand it. Cyborg had, with permission, implanted a biosign-monitor at the base of each Titan's neck, allowing him to monitor their vital signs such as brain waves, body heat and various other functions._

_Wh__at he saw alarmed him. He triple checked that data he was receiving, not fully able to believe it. Their brain waves were erratic, the magic playing havoc with their bodies, while the sex pollen caused a constant stream of epinephrine and testosterone to be released into their bodies. By his estimate, they would suffer from physical exhaustion before the sex drive gave out._

_Their bodies, flooded with hormones and chemically unbalanced__, would simply shut down, their heart muscles unable to contract due to the build up of toxicity over time. The pollen was reacting within their body, forming minute amounts of neurotoxin and haemotoxin analogues in their bodies. While not at lethal levels, it would build up over a series of days before causing death._

That had been an hour ago. He'd chosen to share the information with Batman, withholding it from Impulse and Jinx. He was unsure as to how they would react, but he didn't wish to take the risk. Of all the Titans, Starfire would be the least affected, simply due to her incredibly resilient constitution.

They had fought a megalomaniacal block of tofu with a predilection for the name 'Bob' that abducted cows to use as a power source, an ancient pandimensional demon god who could and regularly did destroy planets, a senile old moron with a sociopathic sense of British nationalism and, perhaps most humiliating, some madman in a top-hat and tails who'd turned them all into various _cute_ animals to be toyed with and later executed.

To die by way of a sex spell was… pathetic. Perhaps the only consolation was that you'd be too happy at the time to care.

**WWW**

Aziz sat shivering against the wall, clutching a metal bar. The sweat on his brow continued to flow down as he suppressed each and every urge in his body, fighting the hunger. Already he could feel the build up of toxins within him, feel the spores react within him.

His_other_ had cooperated, shunting most of the magic into himself instead. The effects could have been worse, with them being rendered as sex crazed zombies. Instead, they were more akin to someone with an obsessive compulsive sex disorder, able to influence at least some of the effects subconsciously. He could feel their internal struggles, Robin struggling valiantly but futilely, Raven submerged beneath her emotions of Lust and Rage as they attempted to protect her by handling a situation she was unprepared for.

Terra and Beast Boy were no better off, trapped in a loop of pleasure-pain. It was a result of being told to 'sleep' by Az which was conflicting with their subconscious imperative to engage in carnal pleasures. Starfire had entered, for the sake of linguistic simplicity, a 'breeding frenzy', an extremely rare occurrence among Tamaranians. It was an atavistic throwback to their primal origins, when females competed for the prize males.

All their lives were at risk. Breathing in deeply, he shuddered, feeling the muscles in his groin respond as he shut down the nerves, rendering his penis inert and flaccid. He had to repeat the action every minute, maintaining blood flow to his brain. He had to plan, to think.

He heard the door open. Batman entered with respirator on, while Impulse and Jinx trod softly inside. Suddenly, he felt the spell. Semi-sentient, it was still slightly active. Coiling up its reserves, it struck out at the nearest prey.

Batman.

Batman fell to the ground, groaning as the magic did its work. Just like Shafaq he suppressed it, straining with the effort of controlling his urge to simply take off his shirt and join them, to surrender to the carnal pleasures that constantly whispered in the back of his mind.

He passed the vial to Jinx, who tried to help him up. He shoved her away, unwilling to let her hold him, to have the scent and warmth of a woman, of anyone, so close to his body. He staggered back, finding himself locked in a secure cell. Impulse raced to and from the cell, depositing the Titans in their rooms as Jinx poured the antidote into their mouths.

However, the greatest problem lay with Starfire, Raven and Robin. To extricate Robin from his position, while incapacitating the two most powerful members of the Titans at the same time, was a challenge that no one had expected.

**WWW**

Robin inhaled as deeply as he could before returning his attention to the dark haired beauty before him. Something flittered, very vaguely, across his consciousness. It told him to fight.

_Fight what_

There was no threat, simply pleasure. In a roiling ocean, he was a boat tossed about in a tempest. He ground his hips hard against her, felt their tongues twist and intertwine; the wine that was his blood, coppery and sweet, commingling with their saliva. He felt the bite of the harsh beauty behind him, the rasp of her teeth as it slid against the soft skin.

He felt it travel upwards, just as the storm tossed him onto land. A jarring blow slammed him back into reality, exhausted and shivering, as Shafaq kicked out at Starfire, pulling Robin back and trapping him in a headlock.

"Richard. I need you conscious..."

Robin stared at Aziz before reaching out, feeling the need, the powerful urge to run his hands over sculpted muscle and flesh… right before a slap restored him to sanity.

"Richard-"

He abruptly stopped speaking and he stared at the two, who in Robin's absence had resumed kissing each other. Shaking his head he nodded to Jinx, who sent a wave of hex bolts slamming into the duo.

While not many people knew it, Jinx, born Nicole Diaz, was of East Indian origin, her parents having migrated to Vancouver from Mumbai before she was born. Typical of many cases involving young metahumans, her parents had been killed by a cartel her father had angered. They had adopted her, honing her powers and skills.

Her mother was a Homo Magi, an innate magic wielder, while her father had been a metahuman, gifted with the power to shift probability and quantum action, in essence being naturally lucky.

Only recently had she discovered her heritage as an elemental sorceress whose powers include the ability to command elements of nature such as air, water, earth, fire, plants – just about anything and everything not man-made.

The manipulation of magical energy she manifested as offensive force bolts and green flames, the ability to dissolve matter and create ground tremors and finally, her signature power; pink waves of energy caused bad luck for her opponents and disrupted solid matter, or causing random environmental effects.

The effect of her hex bolt had was of mutual repulsion, as she intended. The two were sent flying apart with enormous force, Starfire slamming through multiple layers of concrete as she landed in the basement level of the tower. Raven had a far softer landing, cushioned by Az as he allowed himself to slam into the wall, absorbing the vast majority of the impact. He slumped to the floor, Raven cradled in his arms. Starfire was Tamaranian and thus had no trouble smashing through concrete, but Raven was still human… in body, at least. Heavens knew where her mind was at.

Impulse aided them while Jinx went to help Robin, gingerly looping his arm around her neck. It was bound to be a long night.

**WWW**

"Cy, are you really sure about this?" Jinx asked anxiously.

Cyborg keyed in the final code, the steel shutters sealing the Titans auxiliary living quarters off from the rest of the complex. The tower had multiple backups, as well as auxiliary living areas and numerous other facilities, to accommodate future expansion or emergency scenarios such as earthquakes and other natural disasters.

"It's the only damn idea I can think of, _okay?_" Cyborg burst out, his temper easily defying his emotional inhibitors. "I've got a bunch of ultra-horny teammates who could die of heart attack due to too much sex, a member of the Justice League hyped up to his eyeballs on a magical sex drug currently in a detention cell and no idea about what to do except to contain them in the tower and prevent this mess from falling into the hands of the media!"

Just then his cellular rang. Victor had a private line and screened all his calls, one of the pains that came with being a celebrity superhero. It was Edna. Cyborg took a few deep breaths to still himself.

"Cy, what's the situation? I received your message. What's happened to Raven?"

"It's best that you come and see for yourself. I don't know how to explain it. It's a lust spell."

The response on the other end was shocked silence.

"Alright then. But I think I might need to bring some support along, if it involves Raven and could affect so many people. A niece of mine. She's a skilled mage."

"What's her name?"

"Zatanna Zatara."

**WWW**

Bruce groggily rose, the lockpick slipping from his grip to the floor. His vision was blurry, his grip on sanity barely there. He shook his head, counting to a thousand as he methodically opened the cell door. The electronic lock was easy enough to override.

He had to get out of there, to return to his penthouse. Until Joculare was dealt with, he could not leave Gotham in good faith. His penthouse, located in the business downtown, was strategically located to pursue his operations as a vigilante here.

_Why isn't the antidote working_

He should have been more lucid by now. Instead, the more he concentrated on specific tasks, the stronger his carnal urges felt.

He staggered through the cell door as it unlocked, intent on leaving the tower to return home. Batman had an almost irrational belief in magic. To him, it was a non-physical energy that obeyed certain rules and had an effect on entities within the universe, disrupting known scientific laws.

To be told that he was the victim of a lust spell was simply beyond his acceptance, something his rational human mind simply could not accept. It had to be a chemical compound of some sort within his body, or a psionic pulse. These were rational and could be accepted, something that could be explained mechanistically, reduced to its base elements.

Magic was not such a thing. It used the minds of any and all sapient beings as its matrix, and as such had only tangential bearings on logic, twisting and whirling its way through the chaotic weave of reality. Humans had enough trouble dealing with reality without having it bent and broken by unseen forces.

Making his way to a motorcycle in the garage, he gunned its engine, the undersea tunnel linking the island to the mainland lighting up. He had to get to somewhere safe; somewhere he could calm down and think about what to do.

**WWW**

_Antidisestablishmentarianism. It is the longest non-technical term in the English language_._Long... and hard to... to spell. Hard. Something is..._

Raven awoke to find Robin lying against her, his mouth nibbling on her neck. She felt hot and flushed. The memories of the last few hours came back: of the vile things he had whispered in her ear, licking them and nibbling them. The internal battle that had taken place within her had subsided.

_Looking distinctly bored__, Urenor stepped in and ripped apart a demonic manifestation from Raven's subconscious. Of all things, he had to contend with low-level entities that even he normally wouldn't bother with_.

_Behind him__ the true Raven slowly woke, safe within a black barrier that bled red with the stress upon it, as Urenor silently levitated Rage and Lust to a distant corner of her mindscape_. _They were far too involved in fighting each other for control at this point to even notice._

_This was a battle__ she would have to fight herself, but that didn't mean Urenor couldn't intervene as he pleased. He wouldn't allow her to be defeated; not yet. She had a purpose to serve, and serve it she would. The world depended on her, but he had other intentions as well… intentions that his younger siblings had no knowledge of._

She shoved him off her body, exercising a force of will that seemingly rebelled against the action. Robin stared at her for a long moment, waiting for sanity to return. He groaned, retreating to a corner of the room. Nothing needed to be said. She exited the room, noting they were in the auxiliary living facilities of the tower normally reserved for guests.

The entire level shook. Starfire was blasting her way through reinforced walls to reach them. When a three inch thick titanium-steel floor moved in waves and cracked, you didn't need pricking thumbs to tell you something dangerous was approaching. In this case it was Starfire, still very much in her breeding frenzy and set on claiming her man.

Someone appeared behind Raven and grabbed her hand, dragging her forward. In the darkness she saw a glint of grey eyes. Robin was over Az's shoulder in a rather awkward position.

He stopped at a bend in the corridor and moved Raven behind him, using his body to shield her. With a heave, the wall gave way as Starfire burst forth in all her naked glory, eyes ablaze with emerald light, eyes focusing on Raven and the prize held aloft on Aziz's shoulder.

"**MINE!**"

Aziz knew he was too fatigued to engage in a fight with Starfire. She was berserk, adrenaline driving her and rendering her more resistant than usual. With just his strength, he had no chance of restraining Starfire. He was barely able to concentrate as it was.

Still, it was working. His saliva contained a counter-agent that was currently working its way through the systems of Terra and BB, lessening the chemical threat and minimising the toxicity. It had been covertly delivered when BB had kissed him, however abhorrent Cyborg and Impulse may have found it.

He had been able to deliver a minimal dosage to Starfire when she had kissed him earlier. However, he gauged that it was sufficient, at the very least, to purge it from Robin. He would survive, though exhausted, while Starfire had never faced a threat from it in the first place.

He felt the hardening of Robin's organ against his shoulder and made a split decision.

"Do you want him?"

"_Yesssss_," came the long hiss. Starfire licked her lips in eager anticipation.

Aziz threw Robin at Starfire, turned and ran, all in one fluid movement. Raven stayed right behind him. However, the hex power of Jinx had after-effects. While weakened, it could still cause spectacularly bad luck for its targets.

Raven happened to be near a laundry chute when she collided with Az, throwing him headfirst down the chute, pulling her after him. The eager cackle of Starfire could be heard, receding into the distance as they fell through darkness.

It was interesting, and somewhat disturbing, to think that a girl who habitually populated her room with cute stuffed animals could be like that.

**WWW**

Raven and Aziz landed with a resounding clang in the bend of the chute before sliding down to land on a hard concrete floor in a tangle of limbs, her on top of him.

She sat straddling him. He met her eyes and stated a familiar sentence in an utterly deadpan voice.

"We seem to be in a compromising position."

Raven shut him up by kissing him. But she felt her head pulled back as he moved away from her, putting distance between them.

"Raven… neither of us are in the right frame of mind. We are not ourselves. I-"

"I love you."

Those three simple words shut him up. He stared at her long and hard before backing away.

_It is the spell talking. I am Karas'thy Raksa. I __am not destined for this. She… she is lying. She must be._

Just as suddenly she was in front of him, her eyes bleeding red as Rage took over once more, intent on her prize. Black tendrils encircled him, gripping his arms with strength beyond his limit to resist.

He felt her hands reach out, caressing his face softly and silently, before gripping the back of his head and moving it toward her. He felt her cherry red lips encapsulate his mouth as she bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

"Sweet. So much power in this blood. _Surrender to me_."

He surrendered to the kisses as she began to peel off his trousers, unbuckling the buttons one by one. He moved his head to the side and planted kisses on her neck, ever so slowly nipping the flesh and planting his marks there. Then the moment came.

As she moaned slowly, her neck stretched out to allow him better access, he head butted her in the temple. With a crack, the tendrils dissipated and both fell to the ground.

**WWW**

Sophia was a busy woman, always on the move. The recent news and subtle reality shifts that had deprived her of the once bountiful resources of OCI had stressed her greatly, for it was an unforeseen action she had never planned for.

All of which left her with her own company, Mendes Defence Decisions and Nair Electric, run jointly by Yin Ling and Achyuta in their respective capacities of Chairman of the Board and CEO. Novadyne had withdrawn, its local division filing for bankruptcy in this universe and selling off its properties.

It still left her with 2 BD Marine companies, a Doom Kestrel Siwong Force Brigade, both currently contracted by the UN and Singapore respectively, the local brigade of the Kratos Force and her orbital weapons network with some asteroid mining assets. Sufficient, but nothing compared to what she previously had. And of course, no Silencers and no Elites, excepting the freelance Tyu and Eko.

The problem with them lay in the fact the Eko followed Aziz and Tyu followed Eko, which more or less left them out of her control.

Similarly, she had received disturbing files about Aziz from sources in Janthril High Command. Heavily encrypted, she had yet to open them. She thought she knew her brother, but had turned out to be wrong.

She had studied reports of the former Janthril Warmaster Azaluhaiz, of how he had disappeared after joining his post with that of the Grand Matriarch and surrendering authority to his daughter, finally unifying the various factions together under Ghanima's command. Somehow, Aziz was linked to that. A special agent of sorts, or otherwise.

All of this and their possible consequences were flowing through her mind when she heard the crack of glass echo through her penthouse on the 80th floor. She whirled around to come face to face with the last thing she expected.

"Bruce?"

**WWW**

Sophia noted his heavy breathing as he lay prone on the couch. Her Sable Thorns had dragged him in. Her bodyguards were cyborgs enhanced with nanobots or nanodes in their body, allowing them to pull off feats that would kill a human being. One such feat was retrieving Batman from outside the penthouse.

She'd known for a long time he was Batman, just like Lucius Fox did. She also knew about his sons, Tallent, Damian and Ibn by Talia al Ghul and his daughter Helena by Selena. Of his sons, not even Batman was privy to the information. Talia had her means after all.

"Bruce, wake up."

He groggily stirred, before moving with a quick burst of energy, toppling over the edge of the couch. She cocked her head to the side as he felt for his shirt, the components for the suit secured in the corner of the room.

He stared at the bat symbol of the suit, then looked back at Sophia. His eyes were guarded, wariness laced with apprehension and fatigue filling his face. She silently nodded to him.

"I knew for a long time that you were Batman, Bruce. I've always known. I run the biggest mercenary company in the Northern Hemisphere and run contracts for the CIA. As for running around in a suit, I quote Ras al Ghul; 'You took my advice on theatricality a bit too literally'."

Bruce stared at her, unsure of how to react. The situation had degenerated. He had allowed it to degenerate. The only thing he could think of once he had escaped was to head for a safe place, but somehow, Sophia kept on popping up in his mind… very often in situations that involved her wearing not very much at all.

"Bruce, are you listening to me?"

He stared at her, taking in her figure, the curve of her hips and breasts, the rise and fall of her bosom. His mind was fogged, irrational. He shouldn't do this. He wouldn't. But his desires told him otherwise as his eyes wandered over her smooth navel, the dusting of freckles there like stardust.

A short shriek of surprise escaped her throat as Bruce launched himself on her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her down to the floor. Just as quickly, Sophia assessed the situation.

He was clear of any narcotic influence of his behaviour. Her nanode probes had cleared him of that. What he _did_reek of was magic. Through sheer serendipity, he was in a state where he was easily manipulated and she could get what she wanted from him easily. The magic she could not counteract, but Achyuta could.

Admittedly she could have just used her nanobots to copy his genetic structure and engineer cells based on them, joining them with her own. However, her period of time spent as a human had given her an appreciation for the sexual aspect of humanity. All of this fitted in nicely with her plans to breed a suitable heir to herself and obtain his genetic material.

She enjoyed the intimacy, the emotional connection and joining that it brought with a partner, more so than the pure carnality of other forms of sexual entertainment.

Now was the time to act. She let her natural impulses take over as she felt his mouth travel towards her face, felt his warm breath wash over her face. The tang of mint and wood spice rose from him, as well as sweat and numerous other scents.

Her breath caught and she gave a silent moan. She looked and waved away the bodyguards who had responded to her shriek, knives and guns at the ready. They were as loyal as they were obedient.

He worked his hand through her bathrobe with practiced ease, teasingly nipping at her neck at the same time as he tugged at the elastic band of her boyshorts, her satin camisole gaining the attention of his eager hands. She enjoyed the sensation, feeling her body prepare itself, her nipples rubbing stiffly against the fabric of her underclothes.

She shivered as she stumbled with him to her room. His hands were everywhere. He caressed her back, running them in slow strokes up and down her flanks. Goosebumps formed on her skin as he pressed his lips insistently upon hers, before moving downwards.

The ache pressed in her lower belly. She began to feel the moistness increase below. She felt her body prime to accept him, her hands shaking in anticipation as she removed his remaining clothes.

He had numerous small scars criss-crossing his body. Scars that he usually told his paramours were the result of misadventures and such. Instead, they were the scars of a warrior, who had chosen the hardest path in pursuit of strength, to save his people.

It was these scars that in part attracted her to this man. Here was a human who had pushed his limits and kept on fighting for what he believed in – the less dead kind of martyr, if you will. A man of honour, integrity and intelligence, with an intellect to match hers in brief sparks of brilliance. He was the closest to a kindred spirit that she had found in several thousand years of existence.

He turned his attention to her breasts, licking in slow circles her nipples, as he freed them from the confines of her camisole and then her lace bra, layers of clothing shed efficiently and quickly. They stood round and firm, disinclined to hang, like divine offerings of fruit, comparable to the mythical houris of an Islamic heaven.

She arched her back as he reached her vagina, dipping his tongue into her molten core to taste her nectar. She jumped and shivered, totally aware of the events she was allowing to transpire. She felt him trace the alphabet slowly on her bud, his tongue skilfully and artfully manipulating it, deftly flicking it as it coiled around it.

She felt the climax come and wash over her. The little death overcame her. She fainted slightly, only to be reawakened as he propped her up with his arms. She allowed him to position her, felt the hardness of his organ as he made small circles, teasing her and stretching out the anticipation.

She let him continue this ministration before pushing herself back, feeling his organ penetrate her carnal depths. The slight tickling of his pubic hair as it interlocked with hers. His breath as he whispered terrible sweet nothings into her ears, licking and nipping at the soft flesh of her earlobes and neck

She settled into a slow rhythm, feeling his pace and adjusting herself to it, accommodating his length. She clutched at his hands, fingers intertwined, ardent passion driving their actions as he staggered her with his jagged rhythm, slow deep strokes alternating with quick shallow strokes or deep fast strokes. She moaned slowly, her soft volume drowned by the volume of his groans.

Finally, she felt the tension in his coiled muscles and she locked her thighs around him, letting herself go as she felt her release rise and pass, the orgasm a tsunami of pleasure. With a final thrust, he penetrated deeper into her, releasing his semen into her. She panted lightly, feigning fatigue. The simple fact was that she could have sustained this level of activity for days if necessary, due to her construction being of nanomachine origin.

As she felt him harden again, she sent a radiotelepathic transmission to Achyuta, prepared to enjoy her session with Bruce as much as she could, before the magic was countered and he was released from the spell.

Within her, a protective cocoon had already formed over the blastocyte, protecting the cluster of cells that would develop into embryos of her children. In the brief spell of rest before the resumption of their sexual intercourse, Sophia briefly ran a hand over her abdomen. They were desired and part of a plan, but she would love these children nonetheless, as her family, something that truly belonged to her and would change her in unidentified ways no form of mathematical projection could calculate.

As for Bruce, he was a virile lover and had his uses, but he would leave without needing to know about his children. Any actions he took could threaten their future existence, though Sophia doubted that highly. Onraed would not take to its grandchildren being threatened.

**WWW**

As Aziz regained consciousness, he awoke to see a strange figure, blurry in the shadows. He tensed himself, before it resolved into a woman. Tall and lithe, she stood 6'2, easily taller than most men. What set her apart however were the purple stripes that ran through her black hair, a contrast to her amber eyes that locked with his.

"Tara, who told you that you could come?" asked Aziz. He staggered up, leaning against the wall where he had propped Raven. She was unconscious for now, her breathing steady. While the sex pollen was removed, the magic and psionics was a different matter.

"Come now, Warmaster Azaluhaiz. Surely after twenty millennia in your service you should know that my obedience is less than my loyalty. I do what pleases me. I am free to act as I will, after all."

She walked toward him, before standing over Raven and nudging her with her foot. She turned and took in his nakedness, covered by strategically placed cloth strips and duct tape, the only material available in the basement. A brief smile flickered on her face. She_moved_ in front of Aziz, covering the distance in a flash.

She stroked his face, letting her fingers feel his features and sweat, a face she had longed for. Aziz raised a hand, caught hers and tightened it in his grip.

"Tara. You have my friendship. That is all I am giving you. No more. I love you, but… I am sorry."

"Chayara is dead. Has been dead longer than this universe was alive. Why not?" she asked. The undercurrent of need in her voice was blatant.

Aziz looked at her briefly, sparks of gold flying from her eyes to his, before he looked away. Tara stared at his face for a while longer before she too turned her eyes aside.

"I_loved_ you. For ten thousand years I loved you. I always have and always will. You were my leader. My general. My warmaster. My friend. My comrade." There was a slight edge to her voice, the suggestion of that deep ache of sorrow. "Why? Why can't you give me what I seek? Why can I not be honoured to have your affection, and maybe… your children?"

Aziz stared at her, faltering for a moment, before the voice became hard once more. A familiar inflection came to it. Tara heard it, heard a pale shadow of the old warmaster, and her heart leapt for hope – but died as the words reached her.

"I have my reasons, Tara."

She stared at the ground, downcast. Then, acting as if the previous exchange had never happened, Tara observed Raven.

"So this little girl is the one you wish me to tutor in the ways of magic and politics? Not much, I must say. I expected more from you Az. As for the spell that you allowed yourself to absorb… I will **never** understand why you wish to inflict this condition upon yourself."

"She is the Raven Queen."

"I knew that when I followed you here. As did the others; Tyu, Eko, Sophia. All the rest."

"My request is simple. Please undo the psionics upon them. There is another already working to undo the magic that binds them. Cleanse her and her friends. When you are done, go to my home in San Francisco. It is prepared for you."

Tara looked at him wordlessly. A glint came to her eye.

"As you wish, Warmaster." The reply was mocking and sarcastic at once, lacking the familiarity and respect that had been there previously.

"Tara."

"Yes?"

"…Thank you."

She stopped, staring hard at him, before glancing impassively at the 'little' girl she was supposed to teach. She disappeared without so much as a whisper, the deed done.

Morning would come, the consequences of the night would be dealt with, and new events would be set in motion.

But none of that meant anything to Tara. The only thoughts that ran through her mind as she fled the tower were those of sorrow, regret and despair. She couldn't understand why Aziz did not give her what she so desperately wanted, despite how they loved each other.

They loved each other and they both knew this, but Aziz forced Tara to do no more than watch from a distance, standing helplessly by as he took a path of self-destruction that would inevitably lead to his death.

She would follow him to whatever end. If that end was death, then Tara had no qualms.

**A/N**: Hope all the ladies who read this fic enjoyed that. It's hard as hell to write a lemon scene, especially for a guy. According to anecdotal evidence, women are aroused more by non-visual cues while men are aroused by visible cues. Send me a PM and tell me if I was accurate. I'm a computer science/arts student, so I tend to be a bit technical in my writings, but the lemon was crafted based on (painful) perusal of romance novels and technical knowledge gleaned from Wikipedia and via Google and Yahoo.

Apologies for taking so long. Moved to Sydney, Australia and am now pursuing a double degree.

Hey Ieuan, you ever come Down Under, you have a place to crash at should you need it.

_Heylo. This is Ieuan. I feel like writing something here, and I feel like writing it in italics._

_I don't know about you, but personally I find the sound of a woman in sexual ecstasy slightly more arousing than the sight of same. At least, I think I do. Or I think that I think about knowing what I possibly know about thinking. No, I didn't understand Robin either._

_Come now, Manthor. Was it really all _that_painful? Although I suppose a badly written romance is just as painful as any other badly written work of fiction. Possibly more so, what with the whole pleasure/pain aspect of it._

_Thanks a lot for the crashing offer, mon ami. I look forward to it, if not here then in whatever alternate reality I visit your house in._

_Oh, yes… and you've probably noticed that I added a little something vis à vis BB and Terra. I felt they didn't get a lot of action in this chapter, or at least not enough, and I felt that I wasn't contributing properly as a beta reader unless I supplied some work of my own. Or maybe I just needed a way of sublimating the residual sexual energies generated within me from reading your work – I dunno. Either way, there is an extra scene of nothing but explicit and rather deviant sex for you. But then you already knew that._

'_Till next time. Fair dinkum! (Whatever that means.)_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 2****5**

**A/N: Usual disclaimers apply. Anyway, come on readers, please send in reviews. I need the feedback to improve the quality and know how things are going. What do you have to lose? Help me give you a better story.  
**

Robin groaned, pulled back over the border of Nod by the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the shutters. He stirred, feeling a warm hand thrown over him. Starfire snuggled into Robin, eager to enjoy his warmth. This was nothing out of the ordinary so Robin accepted her, but somehow he was feeling extremely sore in the hips, groin and lower back.

His hands reached out to her and pulled her closer, moving over the smooth orange skin of her naked shoulders. She responded, her body stretching out to encompass him. Strangely, she was naked...

The memory of what had happened hit him like a meteorite crushing an ant. He sat rigid, trying to calm himself down and approach the situation rationally. He peeked under the blanket to find himself and Starfire naked, stains of their bodily fluids marking the sheets and mattress. It was then that the smell hit him, the overpowering scent of sex.

It was also then that he began to notice the bite marks all over his body, especially around his groin, as well as the fact that his penis felt sore, blistered almost, as if from overuse. He clutched it, just to confirm his suspicion. The skin around his pubic region felt raw and abraded, at the same time sticky and smelling of sweet musk.

He sat up and groaned as his muscles protested. He wasn't sure how to react. It was like the last time with Batgirl, but worse. At least he had some level of control. The memory of being thrown by Aziz at Starfire, like a peace-offering of steak to an extremely angry dog, was a highlight he wouldn't forget. Then again, Robin had to admit, he would probably have done the same. She wouldn't have hurt him, after all. She knew his limits.

Starfire reached out for him, her hair a mess of curls, before she opened her eyes. She looked at him, and Robin could see in her eyes the same momentary spasm of horror that he had experienced not seconds ago. She had desired physical communion with her lover, but never under circumstances where both were not in control of themselves.

She gathered the blanket around herself, unsure of how to proceed, looking at Robin, meeting his eyes and then looking away in embarrassment. The physical intimacy… no, that was far too mild a phrase… the carnal _madness_ of the night before was gone, replaced with sanity, exhaustion and, as always, the consequences.

"Robin…. I'm sorry. I didn't want it to happen that way," said Starfire. She wasn't quite able to meet his eyes again. "After you told me about the things between you and Barbara, I didn't…"

"Star, it's okay," said Robin, a lot more able to cope with the situation. It was the second time, after all. "It's no one's fault. No one expected that to happen. It's just… did we use any contraceptives?"

"I don't think so. No. No, we didn't."

**WWW**

Garfield woke up in his own room, spread out on the floor with a splitting headache. The room was rotating around him, twisting and turning. His stomach rumbled and he ran for the toilet as bile violently rose in his gorge, trying to flush his digestive tract of foreign objects that weren't there.

Garfield had had hangovers before, but this was worse. He was suffering from a headache that was beyond anything he had ever experienced. It was like two separate headaches were fighting for dominion of his head. Thankfully, the two headaches had apparently decided they were equally matched and left. So did he, cleaning himself as best as he could and changing into something else.

He saw Terra sitting in the kitchen, her face drawn, while Impulse and Jinx sat in the corner, nursing cuppas. Cyborg simply looked stressed. He tried to explain how Batman had gone missing to the Martian Manhunter via video and telepathy. A woman he didn't recognise, a plump older woman of Gypsy descent, and the celebrity magician Zatanna slept on the cots in the living room, both deeply asleep.

Aziz walked past, glancing at and assessing Gar and Terra as he went over to Cyborg. Through the mental fog he saw Cyborg react with relief as Az took the call from the Manhunter. 

He began talking in a lilting foreign tongue that didn't sound like any human language, full of clicks, glottal stops and chirps. The Manhunter was momentarily shocked. He was being spoken to in a language he had long thought dead, buried forever in the ashes of his planet.

The situation was resolved in a minute and he signed off from the Watchtower.

"Az, where the hell was Batman? He slipped out of the garage on one of Robin's bikes while I was busy dealing with Zatanna and Edna over there," he said, inclining his head toward the two sleepers. In four corners of the living room, melted candle wax and the burnt out incense sticks were testimony to the effort required to unbind the spell and dispel it.

"He's being looked after by a friend of mine."

Cy shook his head in disbelief, a single thought stirring within; _I've got to meet his 'friends' sometime. The amount of shit that's been going on since he arrived is almost ridiculous. At least I can trust him._

"Can you tell me who this friend is?"

"Sophia Mendes of MDD."

**WWW**

Zatanna was not only a celebrity magician, but among the most powerful mystics worldwide as well, ranking in the same league as Doctor Fate and Madame Xanadu. As tribute to her late father and as a focal point she usually casted spells by speaking verbal commands backwards, though she could cast them speaking normally as well, or not at all. On rare occasions, she'd cast spells by writing them in her own blood, as in this case, when calling upon supremely powerful forces.

She had used her powers to command elemental forces, heal, transmute and transmogrify objects, manipulate minds, and attack her opponents with energy blasts. She'd even resurrected Metropolis from ruin after the attacks of Apokolips, merged Aquaman's spirit with the ocean and manipulated time and space.

Mysteriously enough, the psionic spell that bound the Titans had been dispelled, in fact broken apart by a _force majeure_ of titanic proportions that had left enormous ripples in the astral plane by its mere presence.

The taste of it was a combination of daemonic and demonic energy, some fel and chaos, though with highly significant traces of divine energy. A hybrid being of sorts had been present, acting of its own free will.

Raven had been easy enough to cure, especially after Edna had found the strange necklace in her room. The very same thing that had caused such trauma to Edna was the same artifact that had in the end broken the spell on Raven. They'd found her handcuffed to water pipes, Aziz on the opposite end of the room, eyes glowing gold. To say that Edna and Zatanna were intrigued by the situation, the artefact and the man who presented it to Raven was and understatement of colossal proportions.

Following onto that they had tried using Raven as a filter, channelling the power of the necklace. It was strangely compliant. The sentience within the necklace had allowed its power to be channelled, devouring and digesting the spell like so much plankton to a blue whale.

The touch of the necklace had tired them more than they had realized and they'd chosen to sleep, far too tired to pursue any leads on Batman. Still, their interest was aroused. The necklace had only calmed down when Shafaq had concentrated on it. That had certainly piqued Edna's interest. Her experience with the force within the necklace had been beyond description.

**WWW**

Bruce stirred in the sheets, a warm body wrapped around him. It was on top of him, his penis flaccid within her vagina. He simply lay there, too tired to move and very unwilling to do so. He had been satiated and emotionally spent to the point that he simply could not feel angry or even frustrated at the situation.

An uncharacteristic buzz filled his mind and he smiled slightly. Without warning, Sophia got up, entering the shower, her hand trailing slightly over her abdomen gently, as if a precious treasure were within. He rose to follow but was rudely interrupted by the presence of her bodyguards, several of them with sharp angular face and two brutes who he knew went by the names of Eko and Tyu. Strange names at that.

"Miss Sophia is busy. She will be with you shortly," came the (rather impersonal) statement, before Bruce could even formulate a question. "Please wait outside on the balcony. Breakfast is served and the newspapers are waiting. We suggest a shower, sir."

Bruce simply nodded and proceeded to the separate toilet pointed out to him. Even in his groggy state, it did not escape him that several of her bodyguards were tense. One in particular though stood out. He seemed almost familiar….**Jaras.**

The infamous assassin who was wanted by Interpol, the Assassin's League and Shadow League as well as most of the crime cartels in the world. He was responsible for neutralising the La Cosa Nostra in Sicily as well as the Russian mafia throughout Eastern Europe, and most of the drug lords in Colombia.

He also happened to have bested Lady Shiva, Bronze Tiger, Deathstroke, David Cain, the O-sensei and Natas, the master of Deathstroke, in combat. Indeed, some said he was the master who had taught Natas, who was himself the master of Wilson Slade or Deathstroke, as he was more generally known.

On impulse he flew at him, only to be sidestepped and having his arm locked behind his back.

"Mr Wayne. Or should I call you the Batman? My name is Jaras. You know who I am; I know you have been searching for me. Please, you are a guest in my employer's home. Cease this behaviour. I am currently off-duty, but allow me to tell you this: Behave yourself, or I will not be as gentle."

He gently released Bruce, the only visible indicator of the lock the pain in his shoulder joint. Jaras pointed him to the shower, before moving ahead of him and guiding him to it. As far as Bruce knew, he was a possible prisoner. As far as Jaras was concerned, Bruce was simply a misbehaving guest he was supposed to look after.

**WWW**

Refreshed and revitalized after the shower, Bruce sat in a plain shirt and pants, enjoying the breeze from the 90th storey of the skyscraper. It overlooked Jump City Harbour, the Pacific stretching out into the horizon. This place was so unlike Gotham, further north and just south of Vancouver, located at the tip of Washington state.

Much like Wayne Enterprises was the biggest employer in Gotham, MDD and Nair Electric were the biggest companies in Jump, their only rivals in net worth being Microsoft, LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises.

Jump was a young city whose infrastructure had been carefully planned to allow for sustainable development. However, there were still signs of sprawl, the masses of humanity filling the streets. Many of the residents were from Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, Germany, the Scandinavian countries, Indonesia, Australia, Thailand, Vietnam, Burma, India, Pakistan, the Middle East and South and Central America, making its composition decidedly cosmopolitan.

The simple fact was that in this city of 8 million, the majority populations were the East Asian and Hispanic communities and only a fifth were of Anglo-Saxon descent. More than half of the people currently populating Jump had been born overseas.

He looked at the mainstream papers, the headlines blaring about a bank robbery and hostage situation that had been foiled by the local heroes, the Titans. There was nothing about the actions of the Titans, simply a mention of a biohazard that the Titans had dealt with.

He felt a presence behind him and turned, his eyes meeting with Sophia's. His expression was hard, but apprehension flickered beneath, unsure of how to proceed.

"Sophia. What happened last night?"

"Magic. Simply magic Bruce. You don't need to worry about your identity. I've already known of it for a long time."

"This business between us, Sophia… it's not finished. You have one of the most wanted assassins in the world working for you. This dalliance between us means nothing to me. It was simply the spell."

"I know that. And that's _two_ assassins, actually. You remember in the early 90's, how the Siberian Ghost took apart the Russian mob? He worked for me too. Bruce, don't make this too hard. I enjoyed last night, but don't try to confront me or interfere with my business. It'll end badly for you."

Bruce's eyes narrowed at the statement. "Are you threatening me?"

"Quite the opposite. I'm warning you." Sophia sighed softly. "Bruce, I like you as a person. But I know that as Batman you can be a… difficult person. I know how to deal with you and your Justice League, and could have done so. I've had contracts offered to me worth billions of dollars by alliances of countries who do not wish for the Justice League to exist. I've used my resources to smooth things over, to persuade people not to oppose you. Who do you think helped in smoothing over that little Kasnia incident? Me."

_Who do you think helped to silence the opponents of the League within the media? Who do you think disabled the air defence systems in Burma__ when your League had the balls to enter? You think it was just luck? I __made__ your luck, Bruce._

_Who do you think assassinated the generals that no one else could touch over the Rwandan genocide__, or the ones responsible for the Balkan genocide? My men are the ones working in shadow, bringing justice in the shadowlands where the oppressed and weak are, crying out for help. You claim you fight the good fight, in day or night, dusk or dawn. My battleground is the twilight._

Bruce moved back, the crystal glass of champagne falling from his hand. The telepathy had been unexpected. Sophia smiled and continued; "I'm a creature of twilight Bruce. I support the Justice League because the world needs it. Yet, you could be so much more. I know about the Justice Lords timeline, of the fear the fool Clark Kent feels. You could have ended so many wars, reordered the world if only you had the willpower and vision. Instead, you suffer from the luxury of morals and conflicting ideals."

_Fight in the light and the day, for all to see. Keep the glory, for you deserve it. Me? I'll live in the tw__ilight and support you Batman… just like Talia did. Leave the grey areas to me. I don't have the luxury of morals to worry about, just the job of making this world, no matter how fucked up it is, a better place._

A hint of sadness entered his mind after her outburst, and he knew it to be hers. He reached out his hand to her, his fingertips stroking her cheek. Sophia moved into it, closed her eyes for a moment. In the silence, all they could hear was the breeze, and a hint of the intimacy they had shared.

Then it was gone, as Sophia looked at him.

"You should leave. You have a business to worry about. And how about the deal with Creed Pharma?"

Bruce looked at her. As he got up to leave, he turned back.

"Cyrus Creed is a corrupt man. He's too dangerous to imprison, and he's ruthless in his goals. Somehow he's connected to Joculare, and he's got connections in the Justice Department, ATF and Customs. He's an arms dealer of the worst kind."

Sophia finished his sentence.

"He'll walk free from jail, no matter how much evidence anyone could bring against him, due to his political connections and work with the CIA. You know that, but even then you'll try. Don't. I'll handle it my way, Bruce; way that doesn't waste taxpayers' money or allows prisoners to grow stronger or insane people to escape and harm innocents."

"You're going to have him assassinated, aren't you?"

"Bruce. You should leave."

The hard eyed stare of hers bored through his mind. He backed away, suddenly feeling like a fly in a spider's web.

With that, he walked out of Sophia's life. She turned her mind to more important things than the concerns of her heart. Jaras had a new appointment to add to his list. 

As for Bruce, his investigations of her and her associates would cease when he saw it in his best interest to do so, unless he wanted the identities of his compatriots and himself compromised. It was nice that the reality shifts were thorough enough that he had no memory of OCI existing, though.

As Bruce left the building, suit in duffel, he couldn't shake the feeling that some event even in the near future was going to shake the world, and that he was part of it somehow, even if he didn't know his role. As for Sophia Mendes, she ranked up there with Talia, Ras and Bane. He knew little about her, but you don't have to know much about a tiger to tell it's a predator.

Bruce left the tower. Just as he reached the high-powered motorcycle that sat in the foyer of the skyscrapers private car park, his cellular vibrated. He picked it up, noting that it was Zatanna calling.

To run into an old lover and colleague on this day, of all days, was not something he eagerly anticipated. Knowing her, she would want an explanation for everything, and maybe a meal as well. He took the call, her husky voice full of old memories of younger days…

**WWW**

_**Rayaan. The time will soon come**__** for you to leave this place and enter into that universe. Slowly, the weave tightens around him. The Grand Matriarch moves, as do the Imperial Ulthaj. Mogathor, Karul, Shath'Hal, Uzakiel, Khallusk and the Ulthaj Gate; they all await the reckoning. When the Jewel of Scathe is awakened once more, when Trigon rises to reclaim that which he lost at the behest of a new master, then they will strike.**_

Rayaan took this all in from Sorentho with an expression of resignation. He'd been watching all along, of the way things were playing out. In some universes fate and destiny were fixed in broad strokes or minute ways. Here, destiny had to be reinforced, a fixed fate leading his brother to the nexus of events where his brother saw only his own death.

Even then, something unexpected had happened that was muddying the waters of time. Like a massive comet landing in an ocean, ripples had started to occur in the future, originating from his Aziz's interactions with the Titans, with Tara, and the possibility of several other women. 

There were also his friends to consider, with the actions of Damon Kazuaki in particular having great effect on the United States later on in life, in one probability stemming from the event nexus. Idimmu and Tian Wen however, diverged onto paths of tragedy that ran congruent with some of the events of Aziz's past lives, innumerable and incalculable even to him.

From Sophia had come a significant ripple, her choices affecting a weave that it was straining to affect. However, the biggest shock had been a rare display of power from the Grand Matriarch, who'd taken on the guise of a human and infiltrated the government, making her way to influence Amanda Waller, a pivotal woman in the State Department with extensive links to the Defence Department and SOCOM.

From Starfire he derived the most interest. The pending separation would be interesting to watch. What drew Rayaan to it the most was the attraction that Blackfire provided. Her past, her troubled relationship with her parents and her conflicts with her sister drew parallels to his own life.

He had no reason to contravene his brother, but his birth drew parallels with Raven as well. It was this that had made his decision to join his brother in this task, to go on a journey of discovery, to find his own self worth and make his destiny.

Similar to Raven, both his parents had been of unholy origins. In a universe long since destroyed, he was born of the mating of Cain, the Son of Adam and Lord of Murder. His mother had been Lilith, the mother of all evil and daughter of the Devil King. Rugal had destroyed them reluctantly, for both had been peers of his.

However, he had chosen to spare the life of their son and raised him as his own, despite the intent of Mogathor and Karul to destroy him. Such an event had been averted due to the direct warning of Azaluhaiz to the others, the event being their censure and sealing. That Shath'hal weighed in on the matter was not lost to them.

Urenor, as usual, was nowhere to be found. He was most likely up to his usual agendas, which neither Sorentho nor Ghanima knew anything about. As their elder sibling, he was most like their father, reserved and soft spoken, but arguably the wisest among them and a match for any Imperial Ulthaj, even Ghanima, Sorentho and Azaluhaiz, in terms of raw power, while matching his father in skill, cunning and intelligence.

He was also the only person, aside from Azaluhaiz and Shath'hal, who had inspired fear from the Janthril Matriarchs as a whole, with a capacity to awe even Uzakiel. Shath'hal was the very same blade that Aziz wielded, for it _was_ an Imperial Ulthaj. 

Shath'hal was the first Imperial Ulthaj, the being who had transcended the final barriers and met the Prime Creator, had matched it in wit, wisdom and potency, winning the right to exist. He had been the one to meet the Great Devourer and its Cha'Gukal hordes in a place beyond eternity and infinity, he who had faced them and triumphed at terrible cost.

In the aftermath, as the Omniverse was made whole, all the Creators, except one, and the Prime Creator had merged together with Shath'hal, pouring their powers and knowledge into him. As time had passed, the new entity had finally emerged, the identity solidified, its purpose unknown.

Long had it lain dormant, until finally it had deigned to be wielded by Azaluhaiz. That act alone, that this entity of transcendent power allowed itself to be wielded as such, had not escaped anyone. Shath'hal was in essence the one that had _made_ the Omniverse.

Still, that was not the whole story, short and limited as it was, and words of mortal and immortal languages simply failed to give its true meaning, which was both utterly simple and horrendously complex.

_I will make my way to that Earth__, Sorentho. I have a personal interest in the matter._

_**I'm aware of that. **__**My father is involved, and Blackfire seems to be the sort of mortal you pursue for romantic escapades. We'll see how my father approves.**_

Rayaan grinned sheepishly, memories of past liaisons with daughters of demon lords, titans and gods coming to mind. To say that his brother had been strict in disciplining him was perhaps an understatement. One did not really enjoy a session that involved escaping a berserk Carnifex while trapped on a jungle deathworld for over a century as a form of punishment.

_So when do I leave?_

_**You'll know it when it happens. Trigon the Terrible has a rather extravagant way of doing things. For an extradimensional being, he is rather limited in creativity and thinking. Such beings are always lusting after power and domination, wasting their time on destroying worlds.**__** I shall also mention some names worth remembering; Gurenon. Ahriman. The last one you will like.**_

_And why is that?_

_**Jorgumander. Derman Ugorj. Your blood brother.**_

**WWW**

Raven woke up, a dull ache in her head. Getting head butted was not an experience she wished to repeat. She felt a weight around her neck, plucking at it and raising it to the light. It was the necklace she had found in his room, the one he meant to give to her. It felt light in her hands, provided a sense of security to her and allowed her to feel almost light-hearted.

She slipped on a pair of slippers, opting to wear loose trousers and a tank top for the day. The thought of wearing her leotard seemed somehow restrictive, bringing back memories of last night she did not necessarily need at the moment.

She wasn't sure how she could face Starfire and Robin if she encountered them, let alone Az. While Raven was still caught up in her thoughts, Edna entered. She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking strangely at Raven, or rather the necklace she wore.

"You have a very interesting friend out there. He knows a lot about magic, and certainly has the intelligence. He has a special aura, that one. Specifically… he has no aura that I can divine, but that necklace-"

"Has a part of my soul in it."

Edna and Raven turned to face Shafaq as he stood in the door, clad in singlet, board shorts and sandals. He'd been planning to leave the tower and pursue some of his own personal business.

After all, it was Monday and he needed to update himself on the status of his business interests and his team. He also needed to pick up the tickets that he'd bought for Starfire and Robin. He also wished to check up on Anya.

"Ms Edna, I thank you for your assistance, but I recommend that you cease all investigation into the nature of that necklace. Raven, are you well?"

Raven looked at him but turned away, unable to meet his eyes. He came to her, gently lifting her chin and looking into her eyes.

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about, Raven. Whatever happened was out of your control. Rest, eat and be well."

Uncharacteristically, he lowered his head, gave her a peck on the cheek, turned and walked off. They didn't even have a chance to question him. He simply left them alone in the room.

"Well… that was smooth," Edna commented. There was a slight blush on Raven's cheek, and both of them knew it was there. "For a young guy, he's very mature."

"He is," Raven replied. She didn't mention the age gap involved, or the truth of his nature which she had known but kept to herself. Having two mentors who imparted knowledge to her and gave her mental training in her dreams was a rather great help. Surprisingly enough, it always left her feeling refreshed.

Somehow, she seemed to get involved with guys who were far older than her. Malchior the dragon had manipulated her, using her naïve infatuation to free himself. She didn't really count him as a boyfriend, but Aziz… she was falling for him.

"Now, back to the topic at hand, my dear. What I experienced with that necklace of yours, well, if that was his soul… I'm not going to comment any further. But whatever it is, the few fractured images I saw… this Aziz, he is a being capable of terrible things."

"I_know_ what he's capable of. I have my own… methods of finding out. I've been told as much. I've witnessed some of the things he has done in the past."

_Somewhere within her, Rage whispered; "You fall for him, falling ever deeper into love, even if you know this man is a murderer. A murderer of children, he can kill infants with his bare hands. This one, he deserves ou__r fear, our respect, but love…? Well, that is up to you…"_

"No. You **don't**. After what I saw, what I experienced, I can assure you beyond doubt that anyone who is innocent, anyone who follows him and lives in his presence, anyone who is loved by him, they can trust him with their lives and secrets. He loves intensely, yet doesn't show it. But his hate, his rage… They would freeze the pits of Hell itself if one were to cross him or harm his loved ones. As for his hate… I should stop."

Edna got up, hugging Raven tightly and leaving. She had a shop to run and a granddaughter who was already anxious as to her whereabouts. Raven simply had to deal with something that was truly beyond Edna.

Once, Edna had been scared of death, of her own mortality. After her experience with the necklace, she wasn't scared of anything. She felt a mixture of fear for this man, but more of pity because of one thing.

_Beautiful like a blade, he has nobility__ inside him that draws people to him, that makes any being which can experience some form of love respect him and follow him, something indescribable and terrifying. But someone has to save him from his hate._

_Because he hates __himself__ most of all._

_He is…_

…_a holy and infernal monstrosity, like a Beast of God hidden in the wastes of the universe, a mistake that an insane god made and yet didn't create; an ungod._

…_beyond the human capacity to understand, for all we will ever get are fragments of this… its true nature…_

**WWW**

The Ascari A10 was a powerful sports car, produced by Ascari Cars, which also produced the Ecosse and KZ1. Able to go from 0-100 km/h (0-60 mph) in 2.8 seconds with a top speed of 346 km/g (215 mph), it was also among the lightest cars in its category.

Az happened to own many cars. It was a necessity to keep up appearances. However, he used them only rarely and the A10 was not one of them. Being who he was, he allowed his friends to use them. The loss of a million dollar sports car was inconsequential to him, but that was not a fact he mentioned to anyone, and no one knew it except Eko.

This essentially left the A10 in the very capable hands of Tian Wen, a champion amateur street and drift racer. However, due to not being free, the only person able to drive it into the city and pick Az up happened to be Damon.

Derived from Greek _damao_, 'Damon' meant 'to tame'. According to Greek legend, Damon and Pythias were friends who lived on Syracuse in the 4th century BC. When Pythias was sentenced to death, he was allowed to temporarily go free on the condition that Damon took his place in prison. Pythias returned just before Damon was to be executed in his place, and the king was so impressed with their loyalty to one another that he pardoned Pythias.

However, most people took it to mean something related to demons. In this sense, Damon Kazuaki was a speed demon. This was one of Aziz's thoughts as they barrelled down the coastal highway towards his warehouse, Damon taking a turn extremely sharply and almost causing them to tumble.

Many people had driven with Damon and later regretted it, many an atheist praying fervently to supposedly non-existent deities. Indeed, his own car, a BMW 7 series, was the birthplace of many born-again Christians, Muslims and Buddhists.

If Jehovah were a comedian beyond human understanding, and Az knew it to be so, Damon had the honour of being his unintentional preacher, causing many to pray to him as they suffered for Damon's need for speed.

"Kazuaki, please try to avoid running anyone over," Aziz said calmly as Damon accelerated round a turn, narrowly missing a biker on a Vespa. They came over the crest of the hill and were airborne for a few seconds before gravity rudely interrupted their levity and brought them back down to Earth.

When they finally got to the compound Damon was smiling like a manaic, sweat pouring from his brow. He'd never been to the warehouse but had heard oblique mentions of it from the others. Now was his chance to see it.

The warehouse looked normal enough, on the outskirts of town and near the coast. Az owned the land around it and used it as a paintball centre, with several warehouses dotting the place, many of them used by sports associations and clubs of one sort or another. The largest warehouse though, was the same one that had held the bunker he stored most of his equipment.

He swiped a card and entered, the normal technological security measures in place. Then he turned into the toilet, did a little tap dance of specific rhythm, teleporting himself and Damon to the bunker beneath.

What he found beneath didn't really surprise him. Most of his advanced tech had been taken away. Aside from an industrial bioforge, a nanotechnic construction system specialised for the production and maintenance of protoplasmic materials, specifically living tissue and organisms of diverse biochemistries, and the atomic replicators and nanoreplicator systems of his workshop, most of the weapons and equipment he'd possessed were gone.

He logged on to his personal database, finding it wiped clean of any materiel and blueprint. A rare spark of irritation burned in him. _Sophia_.

So she had taken action against him before they'd deprived her of resources as well. Someone extremely high up was orchestrating things against him, and Raven's revelation of the knowledge of his true nature was disconcerting. That he had to address.

She had called him 'warmaster'. It was not a title that he liked all that much, but one he tolerated all the same. It was a title of respect, much like Karas'thy Raksa - a title of damnation and respect.

Sophia knew of his past, of the title he shared with War Master Azaluhaiz and a few others of high standing, for a Karas'thy Raksa was a rare being.

_She had yet to know that Azaluhaiz and he were one and the same._

Karas'thy Raksa could mean many things, ranging from esteemed protector, to lord of war, to the breaker of kings. It was a title of honour when understood in its entirety, for it denoted one who was willing to surrender a place in paradise to fight the war in hell. It also denoted one who made great sacrifice in the service of others. In general, the meaning changed depending on the context. 

He hated the name. Names bound you to a past that he acknowledged and accepted but did not wish to remember. Names limited you, but gave you a sense of identity. Azaluhaiz was who he _truly_ was. Aziz was what he had started out as in this life, what he was once more.

He stared at the entity complicit in the entire thing. Shath'hal stood in its place, sheathed in a scabbard of exquisite quality.

"_Kiri atha reh shufath shath'hal quell BAKLOTH!"_

Shath'hal simply shook in its scabbard, as if it were giving a shrug.

Damon turned to see Aziz silently pick up the blade and hold it, while storming off to the far end of the warehouse. He punched a code into a digital lock. It then opened to reveal every gun enthusiasts' heaven.

It was a room filled with each and every sort of modern weapon from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, from pistols and grenades to high-power anti-tank missiles, complete with technical details and data crystals that could be used to manufacture more of them using the nanoreplicator or atomic replicator.

However, it was a foot locker in the far corner of the room that was Aziz's intent.

"Damon, please leave. I have personal business to attend to here."

"Sure thing, dude. Just… how do I get upstairs?"

As he said the word he was automatically teleported upstairs, leaving Aziz alone in the room.

"Grace."

Immediately a trapdoor opened, revealing a hidden room beneath the armoury. On a pedestal stand stood a single suit of armour, his final piece of equipment. It was a Shadowcry Warsuit, standard-issue for the Kratos Force, but this one was customised to his specifications. He'd made a few tweaks himself. Midnight blue, it was form fitting and tight yet comfortable.

Beside it stood three pulsing green cubes, one he hoped to never have to use. Eden's Guard, Temir and Abaddon's Charity. Of all his weapons, they were the least potent in scope, but perhaps the most functional, and his preferred ones. The other named weapons he had wielded throughout his life, all his treasures, were stored within Shath'hal, leaving only Rukt, Abaddon's Charity, Temir and Eden's Guard.

He efficiently packed up what he could, drawing extra non-lethal gelatine and rubber rounds from his stores, with a healthy amount of lethal ammunition. He would introduce Raven and Cyborg to this place, and allow them to use it as a safe house, should things ever get to that. 

Now to go check on his nightclub, see Sao Feng about business, pick up the air tickets, modify his investments and return home to check on Anya, before seeing to Raven. All in a day's work.

**WWW**

Starfire looked at Raven over the cup of coffee, their eyes meeting for a moment before flicking away. The same happened with Dick, who promptly moved off to another table. Starfire followed him, their hands intertwined. Starfire glanced back at the ugly bruise around Raven's right eye, courtesy of a head butt from a certain someone.

While they had no doubt been extremely embarrassed at first, one could not deny that such intimacy drew them closer. Raven had been polite, but couldn't help the awkwardness, as had Starfire and Robin.

Jinx and Impulse had left by then, while Terra and BB had retreated to another side of the tower to be alone. Cyborg had invited Sarah over for coffee, which they were currently sharing while playing a game of pool. From the sense of defeat that emanated from Cyborg, Raven could guess who was winning. Instantaneous equations of angles and moments meant only so much when pitted against an experienced hand.

Everyone had their way of dealing with the embarrassment, but Raven simply didn't know how to deal with hers. Her interactions with Robin, Starfire and Aziz were not something she was overjoyed at, but she still derived a sensation of carnal pleasure from the memories, a tingle that didn't really leave. She also felt rather sexually frustrated, though she chose not to admit it.

She heard the lift rise. Someone had entered via the main gallery of the tower from the viaduct that linked them to an apartment building across the street. Stone Technologies, a joint venture founded by Victor and his father, Robert Stone, happened to own the building where the tower was linked to.

It was among their source of funds due to its rental, with the city providing the utilities free of charge and the Titans Foundation responsible for administration and oversight. Certain secret benefactors had recently gifted the Titans Foundation with funds in excess of five billion euros, though they weren't secret to Raven.

The voices in her head had told her exactly who it was, and she was sleeping with the guy after all, in the sense that she shared a bed with him. Not that she actually minded _sleeping_ with him…

He stepped out of the lift, an 'ali baba' bag slung over his shoulder.

"We have to talk, Az." Aziz nodded understandingly.

"About last night. You feel embarrassed and also wish to discuss the change in the status of the relationship that is developing between-"

"Shut up! Sit down and listen to me," she replied irritably. She hadn't considered the fact that, _perhaps_, dating a mature guy of his experience wasn't the best idea. But given the situation they were a compatible match, much like her and Robin. The fact that he was so much older simply meant one thing; most of the time, he was correct.

When someone says 'we have to talk', what they really mean is 'I have a load of emotional baggage I want to share with you'. The last thing they want is for the other person to instantly pinpoint and solve all their problems.

"Az, you know that I have… difficulties with my sexuality. You saw it last night. What happens is that it breaks down my barriers, lessens the degree of my control over myself and my actions. It's why I find it difficult to be emotionally intimate with anyone, or physically intimate for that matter."

He nodded, sitting down and patiently listening. She scooted closer to him, a hand resting on his knee.

Their eyes met and locked. Raven looked away, the memory of the night before vivid in her mind's eye. His nudity had been exposed for her to see, yet here he was, unashamed. She felt an arm encircle her back as he drew her closer to him, their foreheads finally meeting.

"The demon within… well, it doesn't always stay there, Az. And what_really_ scares me is that I can't really just put all the blame on the demon, because it's a part of who I am, you know?" Aziz didn't even reply, verbally or physically; the look in his eyes was reassurance enough. "I'm afraid I'm going to lose control. I'm falling for you, and I can't control what's happening around me… within me."

"Raven. I understand, but please tell me, why did you call me warmaster? How did you -?"

"Sorentho. Urenor. Your sons; the sons of Azaluhaiz."

Aziz abruptly pulled back, shattering their intimacy.

"Don't call me that. Please. It's something that I left behind a long time ago, a responsibility and burden that is no longer mine. They told you about what I can do, what I have done. Didn't they?"

Raven nodded. "I saw the memorial on that world you destroyed. You made it in memory of them. You're a beautiful person inside. I don't care what anyone else says. You've bled for me. You've risked your life for me. Because you knew why I couldn't be physically intimate, you protected me, from myself, from yourself. Don't tell me that you don't feel something for me, because I can sense your emotions, whether you like it or not, and you can sense mine."

Her arms slowly took him in, but then she felt him turn rigid. He began to shake slightly within her hug.

"Raven… Why do you want to be with me? Why are you falling in love with me? I'm just your bodyguard. I'm just a close friend. That's all. Nothing more."

She whispered into his ear; "Liar. How many times have people said 'we're just friends' without meaning it? Why are _you_ falling for _me_? You know, if anyone knew your real age, they'd call you a cradle snatcher."

"I do not love you. You are a valuable friend, esteemed colleague and honoured personage that I am bound and charged to protect. I am fond of you, yes, and I… value you intensely. You are my comrade and that is why I risk my life for you. I would do the same for anyone else on this team or on any other team I have been a member of or led."

"Do you share the same bed as a comrade?"

"Yes. In the past I have had to share sleeping facilities with members of the same gender."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

Aziz suddenly gulped, unable to think of anything but telling her the truth. The effect she had on him was highly disconcerting and not one he was accustomed to, something he had only ever experienced with Grace or Chayara. Even the _other_ within him, Azaluhaiz, had acquiesced and was present within him, listening with rapt interest. He was the one in the mirror, and the mirror was him. He relaxed, the tension easing from his muscles.

"Raven, I cannot be physically intimate with you because… I have my reasons. It's not that I don't want to. I do, but I have my reasons."

_Giselle. Namora. Tara__. Raven. He loved them all, but he couldn't, wouldn't put them through the experience of it. It didn't matter if they were willing, for no one could follow his path. They deserved better than him, a chance at happiness and joy. Not him._

"Is that all you can think of? Is that how you're going to answer me? Don't I deserve a reason?"

"You do, and you will get it, just not right now. I promise you, on my honour."

"And why should I trust you?"

Aziz looked at her and chose not to answer. She had the evidence of the past few weeks to judge him by. He was not out to prove himself any more. If they still didn't trust him, it was their choice. He had a duty to fulfil, and fulfil it he would. What he hadn't expected was for 'love' to get in the way. It was unlike the other times, for the reason that his emotional discipline, especially after his battle with Sorentho, had worn off.

He felt the emotions and could hide the physical signs, but he felt it nonetheless, and that troubled him. He had lost the ability to simply quash it into a corner and extinguish it, which was far more irritating than he let on.

Abruptly Raven hugged him tighter, feeling annoyance bleed over the bond they shared. She could feel his emotions, had been aware of them, ever since her introduction to Sorentho. She simply hadn't addressed it, but left it unsaid. It had been resolved in its own way, both of them self-aware of it.

"I'm sorry. You've bled for me. You've shielded me. Just tell me _why_. That's all I want."

"Raven. I will."

Then he leaned in closer to her, as he inhaled her scent; dusk, twilight and lavender with the scent of sweet alyssum - of worth beyond beauty. She smelt edelweiss, fennel and cactus, spicy citrus and orange, spicewood.

"Raven. I desire you, your body, your mind, your heart. I desire all of them. I… want to make love to you. I am falling down a path I haven't been through in a long time. But until then, wait. We can always do other things, just… wait."

His hand began making small circles on the small of the back, slowly travelling up her spine. She closed her eyes, before feeling his lips brush against hers. She felt the pressure and opened her mouth, about to deepen the kiss when –

"**Y'all give it up now!** Who's your daddy? Who's the best _now_, Victor?

"You – um…"

The reason Victor had suddenly paused was because he'd just seen Raven and Aziz fall together on the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"Sarah. Victor. We did not expect to see you. Good day." Aziz greeted them with a straight face, stood up, dusted himself off and lifted Raven by the arm and walked her to the kitchen. Raven tried to hide her face as best as possible; if there was one thing she wanted to learn from Aziz at that moment, it was that boundless dignity of his.

Victor and Sarah looked at each other for a moment in silence. Then Sarah put her hands over her mouth and began to laugh. Victor didn't even bother with such pleasantries, his bellowing laugh audible throughout the tower.

**WWW**

Starfire smelt it before she saw it. Someone had set up the grill and was cooking up a storm. Of the many things Earthen things that Starfire enjoyed, barbeque was one of them. She found the taste of the meat, seared just right with that hint of rawness, appealed to her primal instincts.

"Robin, come on." Starfire flew off to the pier that jutted from the island, the smell of barbecue and the sound of music reaching her ears. Right behind her, Robin rushed out, pulling on a singlet. Honestly, it was the last thing he had expected.

He reached the pier just as Starfire landed, his mouth beginning to water at the sight of the meat and salad. BB stood to one side, enjoying a tofu steak and salad, while Terra devoured her own meal with great gusto. The grilled lamb literally melted in her mouth.

Cyborg stood in an apron, a contented smile upon his face as he flicked a piece of steak end over end, a glint of fire in his eyes as he thought of the meat, cooked to perfection, the sauces mixing together to form a melange that burst upon the tongue. What he looked forward to the most was the more exotic meats, cuts of crocodile, kangaroo, ostrich and emu lined up with the normal fare of lamb, chicken and beef. Beast Boy would probably have complained at this mass-slaughter of animals, only Cyborg had become so good at making tofu that he didn't dare.

Sarah and Raven were twirling in a circle to the beat of salsa and samba, Sarah with pandeiro in hand. Az sat on the rail with a guitar, strumming a tune and singing in Portueguese, a lilting tune filled with energy and happiness. Robin noticed that, he was uncharacteristically relaxed and looked to be smiling, lips upturned as he made quick glances at Raven. Completing it all was the beat of the surf, the ocean rhythmically beating upon the pontoons beneath.

It was quite possibly among the most restful Mondays that Robin had ever experienced, and had never quite ended the day like this. Starfire took to twirling at great speed as she spun to the beat, the bells attached to her ankle tinkling and complementing the beat. She'd chosen to wear a skirt and tube top, her orange hair flowing all over.

She looked like a queen of the dance as the trio formed a triangle, the curve of her hips and breasts shown off to good effect in the tight clothing. Raven wore flowing clothes, simple minishorts and a halterneck top in tones of orange and black. Sarah was dressed in jeans and shirt, simply enjoying the freedom to move, the beat and the rhythm. For all of them, it was the dance alone that existed.

As he looked at her dance, Robin still remembered seeing Starfire walking naked from the shower in the earliest days of the team. It was not something one easily forgot. Tamaranians were far less modest than humans. Then again, they _were_an entirely different species with an altogether different culture.

His remembrance of that brought her impending separation to his mind and a mood of melancholy settled over him.

"What is wrong, Robin?" asked Starfire, concerned as she saw her partner's crestfallen features.

"Oh… it's just… well, you leaving with Blackfire and all…"

Starfire smiled, but Robin could see the bittersweet quality to it. He already knew what she was going to say next.

"It worries me too. But do not worry about it, my love. Come; dance with me."

Although the sun is usually thought of as being a harsh and unforgiving thing that should be treated with respect and sometimes fear, none there could deny its incomparable beauty as it set over the mountains, the clouds above it cast in vibrant colours from deepest blood-red to electric yellow. The enchanting sight compelled the music to fade peacefully away into silence; demanded the attention of all those present.

It would have been absolutely perfect if the sun set in the _east_, because then they could have seen its shimmering reflection on the water. But then, sometimes the moment doesn't have to be perfect to set your soul at rest.

**WWW**

Settling down, Richard realised that all of them had needed that break. Sometimes, he felt that he pushed the team too hard, and Cyborg had raised the issue before. Before, there had been daily disturbances of metahuman criminals. Now, they had reduced to perhaps twice a week, which was rather good for a major North American city.

This was nothing compared to some of the Asian, African, European and South American cities which had far stricter enforcement with regards to metahuman activity. Interestingly, the US had the highest rate of metahuman crime and metahuman vigilantism, as well as the largest populations of metahumans in the world. Perhaps that was a key reason why so many countries distrusted the Justice League, for their key members were all of American extract. 

He looked at Starfire, drowsy from a _very_ good meal. Apparently, Argentine beef appealed to her taste buds, and she had drank rather heavily of the tequila provided. She disliked beer, for the simple fact that 8 stomach chambers meant that it fermented and made her bloated. Like any girl, she was vain and didn't feel the need to look fat.

He heard the knocking on his door before it opened, revealing Aziz holding a manila envelope.

"Did you know that the drinking age in South Africa is 16 years?"

"No. I didn't. Your point, Az?"

"I have a little gift for you. Take the envelope and perhaps start packing tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. Your flight has been changed so that you leave on Wednesday in the early morning." He walked out of the room, leaving the two alone.

Richard opened the envelope, his eyes taking in the details before in. His eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat. He looked up at Starfire.

Two first class tickets to Cape Town and from there to Rio de Janeiro, with an optional and highly flexible travel itinerary that perfectly suited them, a handwritten note, fake IDs, passports and two compact heavy-duty image inducers with enough power to last two weeks.

He looked at the handwritten note, scrawled with the signatures of the rest of the team and small notes of well wishing.

_Take care Dick. Spend time with Starfire and go on a vacation. You both deserve it Raven_

_Cya little bro. Enjoy yourselves and tell us the whole story when you get back! Cy_

_Have a blast in Cape Town. It's a beautiful place. Oh, and you __**really**__ must try the safari. It's unforgettable._

_Have fun guys Terra_

_Dudes! Get high, get wasted and have a blast BB_

Dick chuckled at BB's comments. Many times, it was his humour alone that had kept the team from quarrelling, and only now was he beginning to see it. BB had the potential to be a leader, but he just didn't want it.

The last comment came from Az; _Leave your uniform behind. Live life and just __be__, Dick. We've got it covered here. But first thing tomorrow, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Note that he is nicknamed Heaven's Hitman. Plus most of your bags are packed. Hope you don't mind. P.S. Nice superman underwear Az_

Dick smiled, before laughing. So the bastard _did_ have a sense of humour. But he wondered, just why did Aziz want him to meet a guy nicknamed Heaven's Hitman?

**WWW**

Tian Wen sent a knee slamming into the heavy bag, the force of the impact sending it flying. Sao Feng and Damon braced the back of it, the force of the next strike winding them slightly. A lean, mean brown fighting machine, Tian was the Lethwei, MMA and Krav Maga instructor for Dalibor. He was also intended to be Raven's instructor as well.

He was also the only one on record who'd beat Az by points in a sport match, albeit only with the aid of Sao Feng and Damon, but in return ended up with dislocated shoulders and severe bruises as well as a bad concussion on meeting him the first time, as well as a bad knee sprain and sprained wrists. Still, it was a significant feat, as even Aziz admitted. Surprisingly enough, his main job was running a Chinese restaurant in the middle of downtown. Still, if anyone came into his restaurant looking to mix it up they wouldn't be disappointed.

It was not that he had better skill than most, though he was indubitably a more than competent fighter. He simply had a pathological determination to never surrender and had never_once_ in his life admitted defeat, or even temporarily backed away just to recover. Some people said he wouldn't surrender even to the Grim Reaper himself, should that time come. He also fought with a ferocity that contrasted his easygoing manner, surprising most people and allowing him to take adversaries far larger and heavier than him by virtue of sheer ferocious speed.

With a blow that would have broken bone he sent a roundhouse kick into the bag, breaking the tough synthetic fabric. As sand poured from it, he sheepishly smiled and tried to stop the flow with his hands. Sao Feng glared at him, the phrase 'do you know how much those things cost?' practically written in his eyes.

Damon shook his head and leaned against the wall, sweat pouring from his clothes. The workout ended for the night, but he was already looking forward to the next day. He was simply glad that it wasn't him who was fighting Wen tomorrow.


	26. Chapter 26

**www****Chapter 26**

**Fundamental Change**

_Endurance Beyond Death. No Surrender. These were the war cries of__ Iskandar Tian Wen, the mottoes of the warrior who took upon himself the burden of the Demon Of War, the Heavenly Lord of Massacre of the Raven Queen. He was of great counsel to my mother in her darkest days when she lead the Assagai in fighting the threat of the Ahriman Society and in quelling the American Rebellion. _

_He was my mentor, my surrogate uncle and my friend. I spent countless hours with his children and wife, my aunt Naima, in South Africa, Egypt, Australia and Brazil. He gave his life defending my father and siblings, breaking many prophecies, sacrificing himself in the battle against Ahriman._

_He sleeps now, the eternal sentinel in a place beyond space and time, but he will be remembered by me, if by no one else. _

_History as written by the people of the former United States of America will judge him similarly harshly. It is true that he made hard choices that resulted in horrendous genocide. I do not deny that. But the end result was that millions were sacrificed to save hundreds of millions._

_He was a person who made hard choices and walked a tragic path like the __one who sleeps in shadows, Azaluhaiz. He was his disciple and follower. But to me and my mother, he was a dear friend who gave his life for us, and a soldier who performed the vile tasks demanded of him, even if he did not agree with it._

_I will miss him..._

_Archival Records (Private Diaries of __Amal Grayson, daughter of the Raven Queen and Richard 'Nightwing' Grayson, half-sister to Empress-Matriarch Nightfire of the Vega Domain)_

_Do what is necessary, then what is useful, then what is pleasurable. Apply this to life and it makes things a whole lot easier._

_When you breathe, simply breathe. There is only the air to worry about. Do not clutter your mind with unnecessary thoughts._

_When you eat, simply eat. Provide your body with high quality nutrition and what it needs._

_When you dance, dance. Live the rhythm, be the rhythm._

_When you fight, fight. Fight like your life depends on it._

_As for cooking and love, I quote the Dalai Lama on this; approach both with reckless abandon. At worst, you'll get burnt, but remember, the burns always heal. Scars provide a wealth of knowledge and wisdom._

_Simple Daily Proverbs (Favourite Sayings of Gregory Pereira)_

**WWW**

Robin yawned loudly before mounting his bike. He still hadn't told Bruce about his sabbatical with Starfire. He doubted that Bruce would have understood either way. Robin had had difficulty finding a word to perfectly describe his mentor until he discovered the portmanteau 'workaholic'.

He was always so caught up in making major business decisions, training or patrolling the city that he rarely took a break. The longest break he had ever taken was six weeks spent in the Bahamas after a run-in with Bane, who'd nearly broken his back. He had instead fractured his clavicles and tibia. Needless to say that hadn't stopped him from training, _or_ putting Orpheus and Onyx on the job.

"So, where are we going again?"

Az looked at him from his own Ninja Kawazaki and then nodded at Cyborg and BB. They grimaced briefly, memories of being thrown around like rag dolls fresh in their mind. They'd been spending two nights a week there training, BB even managing to surprise Robin with a wrist lock and throw that had sent him head over heels.

"Have you heard of the Dalibor Fight School over at Stonewell Bay?"

"Yeah. They changed their name recently from the Buaya's Tooth. They're one of the best, if not _the_ best martial arts schools in Jump. Hell, Mirko Crocop, Frank Shamrock and Fedor Emeliananko, the UFC champs, all of them trained and instructed there for a bit. That's got to say something about the place."

"Well, that's where we're going."

**WWW**

They pulled up in the garage behind a line of buildings, the crashing of the surf audible from their location. The sun shone intensely, making it perfectly reasonable for Dick to wear his Ray Bans. Of all the Titans, he was the only one who could walk around without using an image inducer when they wanted to be anonymous, and even then there was the risk of crossing paths with a rabid fan who knew every last contour of his face. Growing up as they had, they'd learned to value their privacy.

Sky Blue landed by the T-Mobile, uncloaking itself to reveal Raven, Terra and Starfire. Robin got off his bike, stretching his legs. He still didn't know what he was doing here, but the least he could do was oblige Az, especially after all he'd done for them.

The garage was a simple one, filled with a few motorbikes and other vehicles: an Ascari A10, a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti, two Land Rovers and what looked identical to a Warthog Jeep with space in the back for 6 people. Cyborg walked over to the cars and examined them, whistling in appreciation. With a beep, the doors and external gate began to close.

They walked up a flight of stairs, reaching a junction that led off to showers, a weights room, locker room and the main training arena.

"So, um… Az, why are we here again?" Robin asked, while BB and Cy smiled knowingly.

"You're going to fight a friend of mine," Aziz replied casually.

"Obviously this is a new definition of the word 'friend' that I haven't come across before…"

**WWW**

Sao Feng may have been smiling on his face, but it hid the groan in his mind. He finished the meal his nine year old daughter Anita had 'cooked' for him.

While not a very strong Catholic he prayed fervently for a day when her cooking would serve the greater good of humanity, possibly by persuading people to eat organic foods rather than all the processed muck that numbers so highly amongst the many other ubiquitous wonders of modern life, like nuclear weapons and terrorism. It was highly possible that her present level of cooking was an active _detriment_ to humanity.

His stomach had hardened over the gruelling months of chemical-rich food to the point that he was literally able to eat even mildly rotten meat, spoilt dog food or curdled milk and digest it completely, deriving nutrition from even strips of leather. The food was as bad as, if not worse than, the survival training he had endured in the Royal Marines.

While his wife was away on business in Israel, Europe and Hong Kong, he took care of their four children, while running a martial arts academy in Jump, Singapore, Hong Kong, Sydney, Melbourne, Bali, Jakarta, Manila, Bangkok and Kuala Lumpur at the same time. Most of them were in partnership with friends he'd met during his service time, all of them teaching MMA and Krav Maga with some extras, though the main schools were in Singapore, Hong Kong and Sydney.

Jump was a fledgling school but had already made a name for itself due to the quality of the fighters it produced, as well as the reputation of its instructors, Casimir among them. However, he had lost a few of his regular staff. Kassim was deployed to some godforsaken part of Afghanistan assassinating Taliban leaders. Kang, who was nominally supposed to be Aziz's bodyguard, had somehow ended up in Bangladesh as a liaison officer for MDD while the rest were in one part of the world or another.

Tian Wen stumbled in shirtless with long scratch marks over his entire back, rubbing his swollen wrists. As he tried to sit down, Sao Feng pointedly stared at him.

"Busy night, Iskandar?"

"Huh… eh… heh… um…"

"Put a bloody shirt on. My kids are around, man! How do you think you're going to explain those damn marks if they ask?"

"Three objects, Sao Feng: whipped cream, handcuffs and a whip," said Tian Wen, complete with mischievous smile.

Sao Feng got about as far as "You know what? I really don't want to know _what_ you were doing with your wife, so-" before being interrupted by the appearance of Naima, the culprit responsible for said scratch marks.

"Next time, stay over at your own goddamn apartment! My kids are on their winter break and this is one of the _few_ times I get to see them when they aren't with their grandparents in Israel or my family in Singapore. I'll let it fly this once, just because you're a friend, but don't put me in this situation again Iskandar."

"Hey, sorry man! I'll make it up to you."

Naima stood guiltily to the side before going off to join Anya and Izusa in looking after Serina, Anita, Ruth, Faykan and Jacob. Wanda had more or less named the children herself. They had proper Chinese names as well, of course. Sao Feng hadn't budged on that. They were as much Jewish as they were Chinese and Indian; and he didn't let them forget that.

"_Nowadays a lot of youth seem to forget where they're from. Hell, my paren__ts didn't let me forget who I was. But at the end of the day, I suppose the decision is up to them,"_ thought Sao Feng.

He closed his eyes, wishing Wanda was around. She was his counterpoint, balancing his hot headed nature with her calm, down-to-earth nature. It was why he'd married her after all, meeting her while working for a while with the MDD Tel Aviv office on a contract for KPMG. Living in close quarters with his cousins and close friends was loads of fun for his children, but at times like this it was just as stressful.

Just the other day Ruth, barely a day over five, had asked him the meaning of 'fuck' and why men 'fucked' women. He'd cunningly managed to evade her question by taking them to eat ice cream and deep-fried Mars Bars along the beach boulevard, even managing to partake of said delicious treats himself due to his now indestructible stomach lining.

The one responsible, namely his cousin Shoah, had regretted it dearly. Sao Feng may have been in his late 30's but that hadn't stopped him – with the assistance of Steve and Damon – from washing out Shoah's mouth with soap. The deed was done in front of the other kids, kind of like in the same way medieval barons would stick the decapitated heads of traitorous enemies on the spikes of their castle walls.

Of course, he wouldn't actually use that tactic on _his_ children. He'd make them eat hot chillies.

Just then, 'Heaven's Hitman' walked into his kitchen. One of his part-time instructors, Gregory Pereira was an instructor of San Shou and Jeet Kun Do who'd trained under Cung Le and Wong Jack Man in San Francisco. His real job was as an information technology consultant and minor venture capitalist for firms seeking to start businesses in Japan, South Korea, Taiwan or China.

His real passion was an entirely different arena.

Cool under pressure, he had ice water in his veins, a trait that benefited him as both a businessperson and as a fighter. Methodically and efficiently, he could take apart most opponents in matter of minutes. The only people he hadn't yet defeated were Tian Wen and Sao Feng himself.

"You ready for the match Greg?" asked Sao Feng, eyes simmering with interest. Aziz had brought the first two boys, members of the Titans, to train under him in private classes, with both progressing well.

Bringing the near-legendary Robin into his school was an exceptional matter, definitely: it would be interesting to watch such a match. But it was the first match that made him worried.

Az had requested to fight Wen.

"Yeah. All of them just arrived. They're getting ready now. As for our resident berserker, he's all hyped up to fight Az. Honestly, I don't want to be in his position _at all_, especially after the last time."

**WWW**

Az clenched his fist, the palm wraps tight against it. He needed to know just how weakened he had become, after everything that had happened. He'd lost so many abilities, had suppressed so much that he was essentially _human_.

Given the threats he faced, being _just_ human simply wasn't good enough. He'd tried fighting the Fedayeen androids on maximum levels in unarmed combat but had to resort to using guns to disable them, something he hadn't had to do in ages. In fact, he'd gotten so used to his superhuman physical prowess that it was actually a _challenge_, getting used to native human abilities once more.

Not that he'd told anyone that. No one needed to know that detail. Being human in his situation simply wasn't good enough; not for him or the people who relied on him. Being human was not a good enough excuse for failure, not in this profession. Failure meant a threat to the welfare of his families.

Whether he liked it or not, subconsciously or otherwise, he had a propensity for becoming like a surrogate sibling, parent or other relative-equivalent. He somehow had the intrinsic ability to attract people to him and lead them, whether he wanted to or not. An ability much like the one Starfire possessed; to warm the hearts of others and form a family unit by his presence.

Concerning the recent softening of his stance, he blamed the influence of Starfire, Raven and the fight with the _other_ within. Even his friends and comrades had commented on his greater warmth and affection, especially so among Shoah, Steve and Tian Wen.

It was not something he… _liked_, for better lack of descriptive terms. His efficiency as such had been compromised. In fact, he should have stayed in the shadows and protected Raven, but had opted to stay close to her by joining the Titans, thus precipitating the current situation.

After leaving Starfire to calm down a livid Robin he'd gone off to prepare for his match, apprehensive for the first time in a long time. Tian Wen was a superb fighter, one of the best, for Az had trained him himself, as had Sao Feng, especially in qi gong. Tian Wen had progressed far, going beyond the physical realm to the point that he could penetrate a 30 centimetre or a foot-thick steel-reinforced concrete wall with a single punch.

A single blow from him could kill, and Az kept that in mind. Tian Wen would remember the first time they fought, and he had grown, training rigorously after work, till the point of exhaustion. Even alone he practiced, growing as a person, as a martial artist, as a _fighter_.

Aziz's sole advantages now lay in his heightened reflexes, peerless skill, experience and cunning. Even then, he knew it would be a hard fight. His memory had been affected, though not his mentat and prana-bindu skills. Still, he had centuries of combat experience and training to draw upon even if his physical capabilities were compromised.

He'd had to hold back the last time and stopped, unwilling to hurt Iskandar more than he already had. It had been a win on points for Iskandar, which was respectable. However that was rendered moot, considering that he had dislocated his shoulder, sprained his knees, torn his Achilles tendon and broken his ribs in the effort to attain that victory.

Raven came in, a look of annoyance on her face. "You could have just asked him, you know. Instead, you had to go and trick Dick into this. Just what were you thinking?"

"Simple. If I had told Richard, would he have wanted to come in the first place?"

"Well… probably not," Raven acceded.

"There's your answer. He will be annoyed at me for a time, but I'm willing to pay that price." Raven wasn't sure, but she was willing to bet she could see the flickering of a smile at the corners of Aziz's lips.

"You're a cunning bastard, you know that? He's still angry at you."

"He can settle it with me after he's fought Greg. But then he's got a flight to catch to Rio de Janeiro immediately after that. Either way he's going to have to wait a while before he can vent his anger at me. Who knows? A nice sojourn with Starfire may even dissipate Richard's ire."

Raven merely shook her head and left the room to wait at the ring, already filled with curious students. Exactly _because_ they were curious, Raven's fingers flew to the image-inducer. Grey skin and purple hair tend to get noticed. Even so she needn't have worried, for all eyes were fixed the ring in the centre of the room…

**WWW**

The ring was essentially a lei tai, a raised platform with padding surrounding it to protect the competitors in the event that they were thrown off or fell from the platform. 6 by 6 metres or 18 feet square, it was also the largest fighting ring in the school.

Inhaling deeply, he felt an uncharacteristic shiver move up and down his spine. Things had changed, and so had Wen. He had become deadlier, more focused, more ferocious in combat.

But it wasn't something Aziz was responsible for. Wen had learnt what 'defeat' meant at a very early age, but only so he could say he never admitted to it. He hungered for victory, as if it were food to a famine-stricken man. Aziz could probably work out all the biochemical implications of it if he'd taken the time, but it was a lot easier just to say that Wen was _addicted_ to winning: so much so that he'd tear up his own body to achieve it… but he wouldn't hurt others. He wasn't that selfish.

But he was more than prepared to sacrifice his own body, and it was that drive that had almost forced him to the point of death when he'd first fought Aziz.

Truth be told, Aziz had honestly been scared of fighting him the first time, because he realised that here was a man, a _friend_, who even in the ring refused to admit defeat until the bitter end. He'd forfeited the match simply to stop Tian Wen from injuring himself further, using low power blows towards the end. It just wasn't _human_, the way he fought: it was like he'd had his survival instinct surgically removed.

This time was different. This time, Tian Wen, whether he admitted to it or not, was seeking revenge. Nothing less than a draw or a clear win would satisfy him, making him even more dangerous.

But this was also to do with something Robin had to learn, and sooner rather than later.

**WWW**

"I had to go and fall in love with an idiot who just _loves_ to fight, didn't I?" asked Naima rhetorically. She flicked her hair back before pounding her hands onto Iskandar's shoulders. She pounded the muscles, taut and whipcord strong beneath.

Her eyes were a light hazel, her nose long and her mouth sensual, her facial features enough of an indicator to the Berber, Nubian and Arabic blood within her.

"Is that my problem? You simply found me irresistible during university. There I was, playing a nice game of rugby with my mates on the oval when out of the blue comes this team of girls that wants to play with us. You organised your friends into a team simply to try and get with some guys. Admit it."

Naima didn't answer, choosing instead to roll her eyes. "Stop exaggerating. You get that from your mum. She's a dear but oh god, does she ever exaggerate. Seriously though, she's a lovely mother-in-law. She even complimented me on the roast turkey I burnt, even though I know she was just being polite. I mean, even a _dragon_ would have had difficulty eating that thing, but she was so _nice_ about it."

Tian Wen rumbled slightly in laughter. Men tended to marry women who somewhat fit within the subconscious template of female behaviour that many men modelled after the behaviour of their mother, and Iskandar Tian Wen was no different.

"Get out there and fight. Be my warrior. Show them your thunder." Naima winked at him and nudged his shoulder before leaving the locker room.

Internally though, Tian Wen was hesitant.

_I've trained with Sao Feng to harden my body an__d cultivate my energy, but Az… the last time we fought he was leagues above me. Now I can make my body as hard as steel, but will that even help? My skill has improved, my speed and reflexes are enough that I can't be seen when moving, but is it enough?_

_Well, guess I'll find out soon enough. Soon, my friend, I'll match you. You may be the God of War, but let us know if the Saint of Thunder can match your fury._

**WWW**

Robin waited at the side with the rest, chugging down a Milo and waiting for the match. The last thing he expected was to spar with some stranger after he'd barely woken up. He had anticipated a leisurely morning, with a slow breakfast and some packing, before leaving for his flight. Instead here he was with the rest of his team mates, waiting to see Az hammer some poor guy into submission.

Idimmu stood at the corner of the platform with Izusa, waiting for the two contenders. He looked across and waved at them, the Titans waving back. Robin still remembered his presence at the harbour. Then it suddenly struck him that they were still wearing the image inducers.

_So he knew? Which could only mean that Aziz had been somewhat liberal in exposing their identities, or that the people around him were smart enough to deduce his identity._

"Then again Robin, it isn't that hard to deduce your identity when you wear a simple strip of cloth that covers only your eyes and exposes everything else," said a voice behind him. A young girl's voice, at that.

"Anya? What are you doing here?" asked Terra, damn near spinning around in her surprise. Anya simply looked up at them and smiled.

A large man with Maori tribal tattoos covering his face leaned against the door. He simply looked at them and nodded, his face solemn.

Unfortunately, absolutely any air of strength or dignity was immediately dispelled from the behemoth of a man when Anya elbowed him in the stomach, as one might prod an errant pet with a toe. He grunted in response, fully aware that BB was trying to suppress gales of laughter, and went away.

"Didn't you know, Tara? I live next door. I train here," said Anya brightly.

As Tara got caught up in a lively conversation with her junior, Starfire looked on intently. Despite collecting cute fluffy animals and being unfailingly polite and cheerful, that was only one aspect of her, one that Robin and her team mates knew well.

She was born of generations of warrior queens, queens who'd sought only the strongest men to breed with, for a strong queen meant a strong nation. Within her flowed the blood of a thousand warriors and rulers, just as it did in Aziz.

She enjoyed watching the martial arts tournaments, especially the Ultimate Fighting Championships, K-1 and PRIDE. They reminded her of the gladiatorial festivals on Tamaran, where professional gladiators fought in extreme conditions, showcasing the martial skills and qualities demanded of them, for the pride of their guilds and tribes, their villages, towns and cities. Of course the standard of fighting shown on this planet wasn't quite as high as it was back home, but then you do what you can.

For her, watching a fight was just as exhilarating as being in one.

At times she couldn't understand the human female attraction to old men with vast wealth, such as the case the late celebrity, Anna Nicole Smith. While logical in the fact that they could secure vast resources for their progeny, wasn't it far better to take such an old male as a sponsor, or perhaps fool them into thinking a child was theirs, while seeking a more virile and desirable genetic father, then subsequently assassinate their bond mate or other competing females? Of course, the laws and customs on Earth punished such actions.

Females on her world, like the Thanagarians themselves, often assassinated competitors for the affections of a man. It was a common custom among rural villages and the aristocrats, though those inhabiting the urban areas did not practice such traditions.

Blackfire herself had orchestrated vast wars of assassination among the men who had thought to court her, resulting in the ruin of numerous aristocratic families as their heir designates were systematically eliminated. Galfore had even expressed admiration for her sister's strategic ability and cunning. One of the few times he had done so, for the wars of assassination had resulted in many of the more troublesome aristocratic families broken beyond recovery.

A sudden hush fell over those assembled as Aziz stepped forward. BB gave a low whistle and then whispered to Raven in that special voice he used to annoy her. "Your boyfriends' got a _ripped_ body. You've got good – actually, you've got some _excellent_ taste there, Rae."

Raven chose to keep silent and continued to watch. It still impressed her, even though she'd seen most of what there was to see, what with him sleeping in her bed. Or the time they'd spent in the basement together, when Rage had taken over.

His muscles were striated, sculpted and lean. With nary an ounce of fat, he had an eight-pack of abdominal muscle showing, bronzed and tanned. Arms and legs thick with muscle fibre and strong enough to literally tear phone books apart were a bronze shade. The looks and physique of an Olympian triathlete hybridised with that of an underwear model and professional fighter.

He looked very much to be somewhere between 18 and 22, somewhat indeterminate, but obviously a mature male.

Raven smiled silently, looking sideways at some of the young girls who were blushing and giggling, some of them not much younger than her, as well as some in their 20's. A sudden spike of jealousy rose within her. She damped it down.

_He was her prize. __**He**__ belonged to her; his body, his mind, his soul. The taste of his skin, slick with sweat, of his blood…_

She shook her head, trying to stop that line of though, something she'd learnt to deal with. As much as she was attracted to his personal qualities, the mystery that surrounded him, she had to admit that a body like his was a bonus. Her demonic side seemed to be rather predatory, surfacing and trying to assert itself, insisting on its dominance over any other competing females.

But not a few people gasped when they witnessed the scars on his back, coloured and integrated into a tattoo design. Four scars carved in diagonal slashes, they were inked black and red, a design of a Siberian Tiger, shark and a large wolf intertwined.

_Innocence. Truth. Mercy. Regret. The scars that bind him, the marks that signify him. The marks that showed Raven's fate._

Raven felt a strange feeling surge through her heart. For a moment, horror tore through her, a blackness overtaking her, before Aziz turned and gave her a smile. She saw a flicker of _something_ in his face, but after that, all she saw was his smile. She relaxed, the oppressive feeling of darkness banished.

Little did she know it was a premonition of things to come.

**WWW**

The wolf itself was a Fenrisian Wolf, as large as a small car and totally foreign to most people, for the fact that it did not exist in any capacity in this universe. It was also the apex predator of the deathworld planet Fenris. Cunning and resilient, Aziz had bested them in a distant past he preferred not to talk about, in the Ansell Imperium of Mankind, a dystopian galactic empire that he had subjugated over the course of a millennium.

Tian Wen appeared next. While not as tall as Aziz, he had an aura about him that was sheer intimidation. He had fierce eyes, the look of a hardened fighter. More heavily built and muscular, he was also dark and handsome, though not tall, with a more obvious Asiatic heritage.

For a slight minute, she saw an image of black flames surrounding him, a dark aura, before it was gone once more. Around him, people drew away, while a man in his late 30's who looked to be of Indo-Chinese origin, with a dash of Slavic blood about him and a Star of David tattoed on his right shoulder gave him a sharp look.

The match was about to begin.

**WWW**

Tian Wen threw a punch at Sao Feng, who caught it in his palm. Sao Feng glanced at him again, nodding.

"One of these blows can kill a person. He seriously told you not to hold back? To fight with killing intent?"

Wen nodded slightly, ill at ease with the notion. Aziz hadn't mentioned anything otherwise, and Tian Wen knew his own combat abilities had grown in scope, but this was the first time he was going all out.

He could dodge bullets, fighting with fists that hit at velocities greater than the speed of sound. He hit with such force and speed that when he made uppercuts, flames engulfed his arms. This was of course only when he used his chi.

He'd trained under Sao Feng in Sagay-style Muay Thai as well as Goutetsu-ryu Karate to the extensively. He'd sparred often with Sao Feng, though he was still leagues above Tian Wen.

He loved to fight. He lived it, he breathed it, became the essence of it. But to fight in a Vale Tudo fight against someone like Aziz, after the last time… he was apprehensive. The last time had been bad enough.

"Watch out for Aziz. Something is decidedly wrong. His aura, his 'chi'; something is wrong with it. It's not cloaked anymore. I can't feel it anymore. There was hardness to it, no soft edges; total killing intent. It's not there anymore. I don't have a good feeling about this fight, Iskandar. Just watch out and be careful. Idimmu will be refereeing. Something isn't right with our Black Tiger."

"That's why I'm fighting you Tian Wen. I need to find that out. Adjust your level to mine and go at me with a killing intent. Vale Tudo. _Anything goes,_" said Aziz from his corner of the ring.

Standing in a left forward stance, they touched fists, Az's blue palm wraps against the black palm wraps of Tian Wen. With the blow of a whistle, Sao Feng began the fight.

**WWW**

Starfire watched as a melee erupted on the lei tai, the blur of motion contrasting to the hushed sound of the audience. There was a crackling blue bolt and the sound of thunder as a blue flame-like bolt erupted from Iskandar's fists. Aziz slammed his fist into it and parrying, but the concussive force could be felt even from her point on the sidelines.

A burning smell wafted from the lei tai. She watched Az's gloves reduced to cinders.

Aziz _narrowly _sidestepped a punch, bringing his arms up to form a rhino block on either side of his head, encasing his head in a defensive shell of bone and muscle. He skipped back, a push kick to just above Iskandar's groin giving him room.

Iskandar kept close, absorbing the blow before shuffling his legs sideways, circling to the left and launching himself in a straight knee.

A particularly powerful strike sent him staggering to the edge, before he recovered and launched a volley of kicks. Swifter than the eye could see, he landed blows to Az' thighs, shins and flanks.

Just as swiftly, Az checked one of his kicks, before hopping back on the stationary leg and twisting into a Muay Thai roundhouse kick. Swiftly, he followed up with a mountain storm roundhouse and flashed his leg up before twisting it into a downward slashing movement that struck Iskandar's clavicle. Iskandar barely brought his arm up in time, the meat of his shoulder absorbing the blow as it skidded across the slick skin.

Tian Wen then realised that Aziz was intending to make it a battle of attrition. He pushed Az away with a kick, circling left and right, dodging and making feints that Aziz saw through. He summoned his chi, increasing his speed and reflexes. Out of nowhere, he saw a blur of motion as a foot came in an arc that intersected with his face.

He slapped it away and dodged it, not noticing the look of surprise on Aziz's face or the faces of his compatriots. Tian Wen knew that if he got in too close, Az would start wrestling and bring him to the ground, throwing him or performing some other takedown.

Az was as dangerous up close as he was from a distance, and he wouldn't let him near him. He was a dangerous striker, grappler and ground-fighter, something that he'd found out the hard way.

Oddly enough, he was using only a small portion of his tremendous speed and reflexes, a thought that he tucked away in the back of his mind. While Az was more skilful and experienced, able to control the level of his physical prowess, he didn't seem to be pushing his limits today.

Noticing an opening, Iskandar Tian Wen, the Saint of Thunder, launched himself into a flying knee strike.

**WWW**

Aziz began to feel apprehensive for the first time in a century as Tian Wen began to increase the speed of his strikes. While they were powered by normal human strength, they were going so fast now that they were managing to cause even his conditioned flesh a degree of pain.

Pound for pound, Aziz was the strongest of the Titans, not counting Starfire and Cyborg, able to overhead press three times his own body weight. His body was essentially at the extreme end of physical feats a human body could accomplish.

He could take the sustained pressure of a spear point to his throat like a Shaolin monk, or suffer enormous blunt force trauma that could incapacitate a normal person, merely due to the hellish conditioning he put himself through.

He tried to summon his chi, despite knowing the ineffectual nature of his attempt. The _other_ was not responding, lying dormant within. But then again, wasn't that what he had wanted?

He dodged a powerful hook by barely a hair, leaning back as it glanced across the bridge of his nose, barely touching him. Tian Wen had improved tremendously. Aziz still had the advantage of skill, but the edge that Tian Wen had over him in terms of speed and reflexes was simply overwhelming. He was moving so fast that he literally left afterimages of himself, phantoms that Aziz hit to no avail.

Conserving his energy, he drew himself into a defensive stance, aware that Tian would seek to avoid going to the ground, knowing of the advantage that Az had in skill. He would keep the fight a stand-up one, where his speed would give him an edge.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a blur that resolved into Tian Wen flying at him, knees aimed at his body core. Willing his body to move as fast as it could Az sidestepped it, receiving a powerful glancing blow to his floating ribs that winded him. Deflecting a cross, he slammed a palm into Tian Wen's sternum, hearing the quiet sound of ligaments tearing as he aimed upwards, the muscles absorbing the force of the blow.

Tian reeled back and righted himself, breathing hard and sweating. Aziz was moving at his full speed, matching that of an Olympic sprinter, but had increased his speed to match that of a cheetah. Even then, it was barely enough to keep up with Tian Wen. Already his carbohydrate stores were depleting, his body struggling to cope with the enormous heat generated by his exertions.

In a separate stream of consciousness he shifted the enzyme balance of his body, trying to cope with the build-up of heat and lactic acid throughout his body. As he fought one battle on the physical realm, he fought another battle within, fine tuning his body to achieve peak performance for as long as he could endure.

With uncharacteristic shock, Aziz suddenly found himself levitating. It was an odd sensation until his nervous system caught up with him to tell him he'd been hit with two different uppercuts. "_A tiger uppercut and shin shoryuken,_" something in the back of his mind told him. He'd taught Tian Wen the tiger uppercut a few months back. Even as his body shook with suppressed pain, he was glad that his friend had learnt the lesson well. His technique was perfect.

A shin shoryuken, or 'true rising dragon fist', consisted of a strong punch or elbow strike to the stomach, followed by multiple strikes to the upper body with the other fist as both were propelled into the air. Able to render most people unconscious, only a rare few were able to maintain consciousness through the trauma, powered as it was by chi. Aziz was one of them.

As his body collided with the platform, Idimmu blew the whistle. The first 3 minute round over. As much as Aziz loved fighting, he felt glad that it was over, because now he _knew_. This was a fundamental change, worse even than the fight with Sorentho.

After the night with the Titans, when he had made a deal with the _other_ to absorb the magics, it had changed him.

He was simply… Aziz. Azaluhaiz was silent, leaving _mortal_ Aziz to deal with things as they were. Whether this was good or bad, Aziz was reluctant to know.

**WWW**

Raven looked over at her boyfriend with worry. Internally, she had started to refer to him as her boyfriend, accepting and internalising it as a concrete fact, no longer something abstract and foreign to her. Whether she could _say_ that with actual spoken _words_ was another matter, but even this mental shift was a big step for her.

His injuries for the most part were abrasions and scrapes, but there were a few gashes and cuts along his forehead where blood slowly dribbled down. He was breathing rapidly, on the verge of hyperventilating. She put her hand to his head, silently shocked at the level of heat emanating from his body.

Idimmu pounded on his muscles. They contracted tightly before Aziz forced them to relax. Through slightly blurry vision, he saw Raven's face in front of him, resolving into a sharp clarity when he felt warmth begin to emanate from her hand. The cuts began to close together, the flesh knitting and healing in seconds.

"_That shouldn't be h__appening. I'm immune to magic… still am," _he thought groggily.

He had to change his fighting style. He was fighting with restraint, and obviously he was diminished to the point that it was foolish to try and take on a superhumanly powerful opponent head-on.

Aggression and ferocity wouldn't work in this fight between him and Tian Wen. However, he still had the advantage in skill. Somehow, even if Tian Wen was faster, tougher and hit harder, he could somehow drag a victory, or at least a draw, out of this. _He had to_.

"Az, we can stop the fight. You're getting beaten senseless-" Idimmu tried to counsel him, before meeting his gaze. He immediately shut up, nodding.

"…Very well. I'll tell you this Az: I don't know what's happened, but as your friend, I'm telling you… stop. You'll only get more injured fighting Tian Wen in this state. Only Sao Feng, Greg or I can restrain him like this, and even then with difficulty."

Raven listened to Idimmu, knowing as she did that Aziz was emanating pure resolve. The minute she felt it she knew there was no budging him.

**WWW**

Tian Wen dodged the blow, only to walk straight into an uppercut. He saw a punch coming for his face and blocked, only to spit out his mouthpiece as another uppercut slammed into his sternum. This time it was a vertical fist, the impact digging in and pushing through. The power of a one-inch punch.

The One inch punch was a skill which used fa jing (translated as explosive power) to generate tremendous amounts of impact force at extremely close distances. When performing a one inch punch the practitioner stood with his fist very close to the target, usually from 0-6 inches.

Then in one explosive burst, the legs rooted, the waist turned, the ribs expanded and the arm extended through the target. It was crucial that the entire body move in unison, or else the power of the punch was limited.

With a gasp Aziz turned his body into the motion, even as he fought the pain in his cracked ribs. Iskandar flew back a full 6 feet, staggering and making an effort to stand up. On his skin was the imprint of a vertical fist, blood seeping from the bruise.

Sucking in air, Iskandar made an intimidating roar that made even Cyborg jump. He shelled his head in his arms and moved closer to Aziz, cautiously aggressive in his approach.

**WWW**

Az was fighting without rhythm, an all out assault on the body and senses. His moves were unpredictable, all based on reflex and instinct. An iron-hard leg slammed into the back of Tian's calf, sweeping him off his feet.

Az was literally breakdancing as much as he was fighting, countless styles combined with acrobatic moves that were flashy and uneconomical. Tian grabbed Az by the foot and tried to set up a heel hook, only to have his face kicked in.

Now it was down to groundfighting, a domain of combat where Tian Wen was woefully disadvantaged, unable to bring his speed to bear. Like a game of chess involving weight, distribution of mass and the four limbs, Aziz fought for a hold, powerful palm heels hitting the sides of his head.

Iskandar saw an opportunity and took it, aiming for an eye gouge feint, before slamming his knuckles into a nerve cluster just between Az's upper lip and nose. The lips split, crimson fluid seeping from it, as Iskandar scrabbled for a hold on his face, his palm-wrapped hands slipping over the blood.

For a brief second Az was stunned, enough so that Tian head-butted him in the ribs. Over the cheers of the students and the Titans, the crack of bone could be heard, as floating ribs fractured on both flanks.

The brief flare of pain caused him to lose his grip, before Tian grabbed him by the neck and slammed his knee into Az's face. Az felt a slight give, as a minor fracture line spread along his cheek bone. But this close, he had more advantage than even Tian Wen realised. After all, the closer one was to the enemy, the better they could see the enemies' plans and influence them.

In this case, the better to fight them with, where Iskandars' reflexes, while still an advantage, counted for less. Standing again, Tian Wen briefly looked to see Aziz's legs in his face, before realising that his arm was caught in Az's grip.

Az locked his thighs tightly around Tian Wen's neck, twisting his hips and twisting Tian's arm at the same time. The grinding of gristle against bone became overwhelming. Iskandar gave a slight shout, lifting himself and slamming his taller opponent into the ground.

Aziz was levered sideways onto his standing frame, using it as a base from which to hyperextend his elbow. After several more seconds of pressure, his elbow on the verge of dislocating, he tapped out.

Az had won the round.

**WWW**

Naima looked with worry at her husband, as did Sao Feng. As nice a person as he was, he practiced martial arts for the sake of personal power. He liked to fight, the thrill of it singing in his blood. Had he been born a Viking, he would have been a berserker unequalled. He was also a person who did not take kindly to defeats, seeking to conquer and elevate himself above any competitors.

An untalented fighter, he'd gotten where he was through endless hours of hard training, either alone or with partners. His rage and passion drove him, almost to the point that he sometimes forgot he was simply sparring full contact and often fought for real.

To him, the **fight** was all there was. Though he always regretted hurting his partners in the aftermath, his philosophy was simple – he expected his opponent to fight as ferociously as him.

He was suppressing most of his chi, to fight at the same level of Aziz, who hadn't released his yet, which to everyone who knew of his capabilities was suspicious. The first round had been a shock, to say the least. He had never expected to win. The second round had been close, but ended in victory for Az. The third round was the decider.

Among the academy, only Sao Feng as the grand master, Casimir and Idimmu, by virtue of his cybernetic legs, could hold Tian Wen in a fight, due to his overwhelming fighting spirit and ferocity. Greg was able to hold him through technical excellence and tactics, despite having none of the superhuman abilities of the rest.

Already, Sao Feng and Casimir could feel the rage within, the Satsui no Hadou, the murderous intent burning within Iskandar, his hunger for victory beginning to overwhelm his better sense. The next round was going to be dangerous, for both.

**WWW**

With the sound of a whistle, the final round began. It had already occurred to most people present that they were rare witnesses to a true Vale Tudo fight, with few rules, between two opponents, one of extreme skill and tactical sense, the other possessed of overwhelming speed and ferocity. It was a fight between two men, both masters in their own right.

Dick was simply astounded, while the big man who'd followed Anya, going by the name of Eko, had seemed particularly disturbed by the spectacle.

Anya herself had nearly shrieked at one point and had to calm herself down, her emotional control a sign of certain traits of her adoptive father rubbing off on her. But her eyes still maintained that haunted look as she continued to watch it. She had never seen Az bested in combat, _never_. Something fundamental had changed.

Starfire had a gleeful smile on her face as she had observed, noticing the skill and speed with which the two had fought. However, even that had been wiped off her face when the crack of bones fracturing had sounded in the arena. At that point not a few of the students had left, unable to stomach the brutality of the fight.

Sao Feng had wanted to step in and stop the fight, but was constantly told by gestures from Az to let it continue. Even Iskandar was beginning to shake, from a combination of fatigue and reluctance.

Raven was down by the lei tai, her normally calm face looking disturbed, sending malicious glances in Iskandar's direction. He either ignored them or simply wasn't aware of them, but seemed to be nursing a dislocated left shoulder, as well as cramped calves, the exertions of the fight tiring him.

Az merely had that damnable poker face, though anyone could tell he was in discomfort, if not pain, by the way he moved, shifting his weight from leg to leg in an effort to alleviate the cramps that were occurring throughout his body.

"Ever since the fight with that guy who crashed through our ceiling that time, he's been a bit… off," commented BB. At the mention of this, Eko spoke for the first time in a rough voice, brusque and direct.

"Tell me about this incident."

Meanwhile, the third round began.

**WWW**

A flurry of kicks and blow from Az were deflected, before Tian Wen found himself pushed back. Within, the hunger began to gnaw, the violent intent rising up within him, as he suppressed it.

All over his muscles ached. His thighs hurt, the bands of muscle pummelled by multiple kicks to the sides, ugly bruises covering both thighs. He could barely walk, while his shoulder hurt, when Az had thrown him and dislocated it.

Now it sat back in its socket, sore and pinching his nerves. He'd have to go to the hospital to reset it later. While it was a fairer fight than before, he still hadn't used his chi, holding it back.

As his tired mind began to work, irrational decisions were made, drawing wrong conclusions from the evidence observed, making meaning out of things that had nothing to do with him.

The voice within began to talk.

_He doesn't think you're worthy of his full power. __That's why he hasn't used his chi. He's not taking this fight seriously. He thinks he can win. Stop holding back. Unleash your rage and show them the power you have gained. Embrace the fight and claim your victory!_

And slowly, his restraint began to slip, as he began to bring the full scope of his power to bear.

**WWW**

"_He's __**what**__?"_Sao Feng yelled in his mind as Eko slowly fed him the information as he received it from Beast Boy.

_That damn fool wanted to find__ out if he could fight in this condition, and he asked Iskandar. Even with all his skill, there's no way in __**hell**__ that his could match Tian Wen in this state. No wonder he was having so much difficulty. He can't access his chi at all._

Now he knew. He needed someone who could fight with the unrestrained savagery of Iskandar, someone who could push him to his limits. But by then, the third round__was already ending. Just then, Sao Feng felt an incredible burst of chi. In concert with the rise, he felt a dark aura fill the room as his student shifted with unease at the sudden chill.

He turned to see Iskandar move with inhuman speed towards Aziz, a blur of motion, before a powerful blow slammed into Aziz, flames bursting from Iskandar's fists. Even from his point several metres away, Sao Feng felt the impact of the punch.

With a crunch, Aziz fell unconscious to the platform. Tian Wen staggered for a bit, before collapsing as well. Aziz had two massive diagonal scars forming an 'X' across his torso, with a horizontal scar just below his eyes and stretching across his face. Iskandar had a deep gash across his left temple, where Az had struck him with his elbow.

His body convulsed violently. Iskandar heard ringing in his ears. Briefly, in flickers of consciousness, he realised he'd suffered a concussion. His last few moments of consciousness were of Naima rushing towards him, along with Idimmu and Sao Feng, while Raven and Greg knelt down by Aziz's side.

**WWW**

Aziz woke up, blurry eyes trying to take in the features of the room around him. He was lying on a safari bed, his torso wrapped in bandages. He tried to shift and grimaced at the sharp points of pain that filled his chest, like shards of glass cutting into his flesh. A familiar feeling, he realised his ribs were broken.

Lying back down, he assessed the damage to his body. Injuries that felt like 3rd degree burns crisscrossed his torso, while his right Achilles tendon was torn. A significant number of ligaments and tendons in his chest were torn as well. He'd also pulled a muscle in his lower back and had suffered whiplash injuries.

He also had internal bruising, as he sifted through his physiological processes. There had been some internal bleeding, but they were resolved. As well, he had received burns across his chest.

_A Metsu Shoryuken. Destroying Rising Dragon Fist._

He'd been that desperate to win, to the point that he had used a potentially lethal move, whether wilfully or not.

He heard whispers behind the door before Raven entered the room, followed by a petrified Iskandar who limped along, his head swathed in bandages. A livid Eko and Sao Feng followed him in.

"So the result of the match was a draw?"

Unable to hold herself back anymore, Raven slapped him across the face. Hard. Eko remained stony-faced, staring at Az with a look that could have killed, while Sao Feng, who'd dammed up his emotions, finally broke his silence.

"We're glad you're well, but that was-" only to be interrupted by Eko, who yelled at him in Teza, a melodic melody of curses and vulgarities so foul that had Raven understood it she would have sealed his mouth shut with her powers.

'**Yanda khale shitra BAKLOTH. QUE NESA SIL EM BAKLOTH!"**

Az merely grinned and shook his head. Eko calmed down, looking almost petrified with shock, before muttering an apology in English. He sat down in a chair heavily, holding his head in his hands.

Aziz sat up and planted his feet on the floor. He stumbled before righting himself, looking at Iskandar and giving him a thumbs-up, and walked over to Eko, patting his shoulder with a closed fist.

To Sao Feng he leaned in close and whispered something that set him laughing like a loon, before he settled down once more.

He then proceeded to march out of the room, keen to get back down and witness the fight between Robin and the Hitman of Heaven.

Raven finally answered, exasperated at the way he treated his injuries, at the way he simply shrugged off the concern of those around him, just as he passed by her.

"Aziz, the match was a _draw_. Doesn't that _mean_ anything to you?"

Az simply looked at her for a while. Then he leaned in close, pecked her on the lips and literally _skipped_ out of the room, a slight smile on his face.

All things considered, Raven could have taken the laughter that came soon after a deal worse than she did. Demons usually kill.

**WWW**

The minute he disappeared from sight, Az felt the relief of Raven flood their bond. He could detect the change in the demeanour of all of them, especially of Eko. His face set back into its neutral mask, as unreadable as a machine once more.

To Eko, Aziz was divinity incarnate, had even used to worship him. It was shocking to a Black Dragon Marine Elite, to say the least, when your object of worship treated you like a friend. After all, it was not every day that a god came down from the pedestal that religion elevated him to and asked that you accompany him on an adventure across the Omniverse.

He still had hang-ups with scolding his former 'god', but Aziz had no problems with it at all. He wanted Eko as a friend, not a worshipper. He had encountered enough of those his entire existence and did not see the need for more.

_Rather they scold me and laugh because of me than waste sorrow and concern borne of love for me. All of them are going to suffer because of me, especially Raven. It's the least I can do, to make them smile now, when there is something to smile about._

The _other_ coiled within him, agreeing with him. But some things were unforeseeable, even to one such as him…

**WWW**

Downstairs, Greg looked across the table at the boy he was supposed to fight, noting the lean frame and developed physique. From his build and the definition of his arms, he guessed the boy to be a gymnast.

"So Dick, how do you know Aziz?" he asked, wondering how he knew this boy. He'd seen Dick move through several patterns from Bagauzhang, movements fluid and swift. His coordination was exceptional, with a sense of rhythm and timing the equal of many elite athletes. Az had a knack for finding all sorts of brilliant individuals, and Dick was no exception.

"Um, we met on the street. We kind of ran into each other at night. You see, we were in a bit of a sticky situation and he kind of cut us out of it." Dick remembered the first time he'd ever run across them, months ago, around two to three months if memory served him correct, when he'd saved them from Cellburst.

It was true enough that he'd literally cut them out of the mess they'd been in, courtesy of Rukt. Not that Az ever used it much in the first place. It seemed to be a weapon of last resort and, judging by its effects, Dick was glad that it was.

"Heh. Yeah. I was walking out in Sydney with my girlfriend when a bunch of drunk American sailors on shore-leave started to disturb us. Seems they didn't take kindly to some dark-skinned Asian guy, though technically I'm Eurasian, dating one of 'their' women. Clare, my girlfriend, she's Latina you see. Anyway, well, they were six large guys, all larger and heavier than me, and me on my lonesome, trying to defend myself and my girlfriend."

"So he happened to be around and decided to dispatch them?"

"Well… There were... fatalities and he helped clear me and Clare." Greg chose not to elaborate.

What had happened was that he had killed one of their attackers when he'd kneed him in the liver and ruptured his spleen. Clare had broken another guys' foot and fractured another's pelvis. She'd also permanently scarred another, seeing as she had an inherited ability to generate and manipulate flame. Aziz had helped clear them and testified to their actions in self-defence.

"Oh."

"I know you're Robin, the leader of the Titans."

"Did he tell you?" Dick asked, an edge to his voice.

"No. But come _on_, Dick, you wear a bloody strip of cloth that barely covers your eyes but reveals the rest of your face, wear a costume that makes you look like the offspring of a traffic light and a Christmas tree _and_ you're hanging out with Shafaq or the Black Tiger, or whatever he goes by these days. It's not that hard to guess."

Dick groaned. Even Starfire had commented on his disguise, asking him to go for a mask that covered more of his face instead of a thin strip of cloth, as well as to wear darker colours. His current costume simply looked… juvenile. He was glad he'd abandoned the pixie shorts early in his career, because those had been...indescribable.

"So does he tell every single person?" Dick asked sarcastically. Greg cocked his eyebrow and replied.

"No, he's too smart for that. If you're in his inner circle, you can be sure that you've got a hell of a friend on your side. The way I've seen him act around your girl there, Raven… well, she's infiltrated his heart, looks like it. Listen, I've got an extradimensional being of indeterminate origins and power, second only to a Pakistani carpet merchant, as one of my best friends, in the form of a human being. My girlfriend can generate and manipulate flames for crying out loud. I'm the Gurney Halleck to his Paul Atreides. Either trust him, or don't. It's up to you."

"Nice analogy, but you're better looking than Gurney Halleck," Dick answered. "But why the hell does he want me to fight you? I barely even know you, who you are, where you're from, what you do…"

"Well then Dick, I'm known as the Hitman. As for why he wants me to fight you, have you ever heard this quote; _The best rulers are barely known to men. The next best are cherished and extolled. The lesser are feared, and the least are scorned. Distrust cannot summon trust. The Sage acts without words._"

Dick mulled over it, before remembering the quote from his philosophy classes, when he'd taken his International Baccalaureate. 'It's from Lao Tze, a Chinese philosopher who was said to be Confucius's peer. Nice. Most people don't know that. What's the relevance?"

"In my experience, so is it in the world of the martial arts, though there are exceptions. Some of the best masters are barely known in the world of fighting, some don't teach, some are highly respected and cherished while the lesser are feared."

"So what are you saying?"

"Sages are also teachers, and they teach sometimes by example though not interaction, sometimes by direct interaction and other times, though inaction or non-action. It's a spectrum, like light. What do you think that fight was earlier? What was the essence of it?"

"Brutality. Iskandar was more ferocious, seeking victory in mind judging by his methods, while Aziz was simply fighting to test his limits" answered Dick.

"And there have Aziz and Iskandar taught you your first lesson. They fought for their own purpose, but they fought as well to teach you, though Iskandar doesn't know that. Now you must learn another lesson: _'No matter how many mountains you climb, there will always be a mountain higher than the one you just summated.'_"

"There'll always be someone better than me. I know that. Deathstroke is better than me. Batman is better than me. Az is better than me. I'm good, but they're leagues higher. But I do know I can hold my own in a street fight. I'm always getting stronger. No one in the Titans can match me, not just yet."

"Look around you Robin. All the instructors in the academy you see here were trained in part by Aziz. You saw the results of just what a few weeks of training with Aziz by Iskandar can do. Not the superhuman bit, mind you, but the physical and mental. You've got barriers in your mind. Az had told me that _you_ can be a master, but you're holding yourself back. What it is, we'll find out once I fight you."

"Oh." Robin didn't really know how to answer to that statement. It was surprising. He'd thought Az was simply goading him at the time but to learn that he'd promoted Dick's abilities to others was, that it was indeed a genuine compliment, was somewhat gratifying.

"He reads people pretty well doesn't he?"

Greg nodded, his own interactions with the man coming to mind. The barriers of his mind, the fear of failure that had been with him since childhood, the insecurities, he'd seen through it all. It had been scary at first, but he'd overcome them. Now, he would act to fulfil his debt of honour.

"Prepare to fight in a quarter of an hour. Yeah, and as to why I'm fighting you:_**'**__Nobody climbs mountains for scientific reasons. Science is used to raise money for the expeditions, but you really climb for the hell of it.'_"

"Sir Edmund Hillary. You read a lot, don't you?"

"Nah. I just love reading all those wikis on the Web."

**WWW**

Red X unclasped his helmet, letting the sweat fall from his brow. He stared at his bloodstained hands, shivering slightly, even as the Bhagatur waited for him. The mission had been successful, retrieving an important encryption disk from the joint NSA-MI5 outpost in Tel Aviv. They had manipulated Hamas extremists into launching a suicide attack at the same time, providing a convenient distraction.

Deathstroke entered the chamber, eager to inspect the results of the raid.

_Limbs everywhere, the convulsing bodies of children__, women and men littering the street, as paramedics and bystanders rushed to attend to them. The second bomb exploded, shattering windows in a four block radius. Countless innocents killed._

"That raid was unnecessary, grandfather. It didn't need to be carried out. Civilian losses were excessive. There were alternatives we could've taken. Why cooperate with Hamas? They're amateurs and unreliable"

"I know. It seems that Madame Rouge came up with that plan. The Bhagatur were not pleased with it at all. The lives of the 'innocent' were taken. It was messy, as far as I'm concerned. Regardless, that's not our problem. Did you get the disk?"

Red X nodded, palming the disk into Deathstroke's waiting hand. "Professional and disciplined" stated Deathstroke, stroking his beard, a spark of pride in his eyes.

"I learned from the best."

Deathstroke ruffled his thick hair affectionately, before Red X looked up to see his 'mother'. Ravager was the daughter of Deathstroke by a French-Vietnamese woman, with the distinction of having her father's silver hair and his perfectionist drive.

Discovered by Wintergreen living in a New York brothel with her mother, Lillian Worth, was the brothel madame, she had been taken in by her father at the age of 14, after her mother had been killed by rivals of Deathstroke seeking to draw him out by threatening his family.

In the aftermath of the failed attempt to train Dick Grayson as his apprentice and heir, Deathstroke had decided, much like David Cain had, that the solution lay in genetics. As such, he had used a sample of Richard Grayson's DNA and the ova of his own daughter to bioengineer his own heir. He was _extremely_ pleased with the result.

Born from a growth-accelerated vat, Red X, whom Wilson Slade had named Paul, had all the memories of Dick Grayson up until the point where the sample had been taken, with the knowledge of multiple assassination and martial techniques and tactics subliminally programmed into his mind, conscious and subconscious.

Ravager looked at her clone-son, who was younger than her by only a few years. In truth, she treated him more like a younger brother, at worst like a stray dog who'd followed her home. She didn't know quite how to react to this young man, with half her own genes composing his physical being.

He'd followed her like a shadow when first introduced, before they'd settled into a routine.

She beckoned him over, where he joined her in battle drills against Fedayeen androids, the 'mother' and 'son' engaging their opponents relentlessly, as Red X looked on through the blue eyes.

**WWW**

Tara growled. The other females present slowly backed down, Namora the last to do so.

"Azaluhaiz is **mine**_**. **_I make first claim to him. Does **anyone** wish to challenge that?"

She let her aura flare in the large house, as she felt the other women around her slowly submit, looking away or baring their necks to her in acts of submission, knowing her nature. Satisfied with the result, she turned her attention to more pressing matters.

"Now, what are we going to eat for dinner?"

When Tara had arrived in San Francisco and entered the vast mansion, she had been rudely surprised to find that she was not the only one who had decided to follow the Warmaster into this universe. Apparently, several other females, all of whom she'd met at various times, all of them members of his retinue, had decided to 'tag along', as Namora had put it.

She had quickly and efficiently put things into order, claiming her place in the hierarchy of the household.At least five other women had laid claim to him, and that she could live with. After all, she was quite willing to share, but above all, she had to be acknowledged first and foremost.

Born of Asgardian and Olypian Gods, as well as a fair dash of Saiyans, both of the legendary and super-saiyan lineages, with a dash of Kryptonian, she also possessed genes originating from an inugami daiyoukai and divine priestess on her father's side. It also helped that she was descended from an Omega-level mutant, or more specifically, a clone of a Phoenix Force host, Jean Grey.

So it was no small wonder that the other women had backed down. She of course felt herself to be most qualified as prime consort, when Azaluhaiz made up his mind on the matter. She had the intelligence, the raw power, the wisdom and the attitude required of one who was to be mate to such a powerful male. Certainly, the other women would be suitable bound concubines or junior consorts.

However, the dog demon aspect of her being told her to be wary of Raven, the young woman whom she had to tutor in the ways of magic. Tara was confident that she could handle the issue if it came to that, with an open challenge to any competitors should they seek to displace her. She'd waited too long and invested too much emotional energy in her pursuit to surrender her claim to Azaluhaiz so easily.

But at the end of the day, the decision lay in the hands of her beloved, and she would abide by his choice, whatever it was. As for this world… well, perhaps she could occupy her time by acting as a superhero vigilante.

She would respect the commands of her beloved, but he had never mentioned anything about pursuing social justice in the poorer parts of the planet, though she doubted he had reckoned with her methods.

Growling in a feral manner, anticipating her plans, she walked to the kitchen, eager to try her hand at cooking human cuisine. It had been so long since she'd tried her human great-grandmother's ramen noodles, a perennial favourite of hers as a child when visiting them. Her great-grandfather Sesshomaru had always spoilt them silly when visiting his castle.

Chuckling slightly at the memory, she called to the other women, preparing to cook.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Intermission Chapter**

**Memories of a Monster**

_Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehn, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein. (_He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you._)__ – Nietzsche_

_Jamais on ne fait le mal si pleinement et si gaiement que quand on le fait par conscience. (_Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it conscientiously.)_ – Blaise Pascal_

**WWW**

The night was cool and quiet in the quiet suburb of Riyadh. The guards huddled around the guardhouse, eager on the warmth of the heater to fight the cold of the winter night, especially now in winter.

They didn't notice the flickers of movement in the bushes, nor the red laser dots that roved slowly across them, wondering whether or not to fire…

Warm and safe within the thick walls, the woman tucked her children into bed, brushing their hair and wishing them good night. The father was on the phone, finishing off some business.

He hung up and checked on his eldest child, a daughter reaching her teens. A fierce paternal pride glittered in his eye. He checked in on the room next to that, containing his youngest, barely 3 months, their infant son. He slept in a cot, next to the bed of the man's mother, the child's grandmother. Both were asleep, their brows smooth and clear of worry.

"Have you swept the compound yet Hassan?" he asked, his Arabic clear, with hints of an American accent from several years spent in Princeton. He may have hated that infidel nation, but their universities were top notch. A pity their people, hospitable as they were, had to pay for the choices of their elected government. The Will of God must be obeyed regardless.

Static was all he received over the microphone. The lights flickered and shut down, and then the backup generators kicked in. It was the fifth time this week.

He cursed, drawing his pistol, a USP .45 with laser sight. One could never be too sure. Many of his associates had been assassinated in the past year, the assailants unknown.

The guards in the house rose from their rest. The dogs were barking.

_**No Mercy**_

The guards slumped, one desperately reaching for the alarm button, before a burst from a silenced SMG ended his hold on life.

The assailants were dressed in midnight blue, balaclavas concealing their faces. Six in total, they moved with practiced precision, policing the weapons of the men and taking photos, while their head-mounted micro-cameras, positioned on their thermal imaging goggles, recorded everything.

They left the guard house, having 'neutralised' all twenty guards. Using silenced AKS-74Us and dressed in thermal masking equipment, they moved in bounding movements, coordinating with the other team of 6 which covered the rear. A flash of a light was the signal. They moved rapidly, entering in via the servants' quarters.

A maid suddenly appeared. Her scream was cut short as their leader moved to throttle her, holding her in a choking headlock from behind before stabbing her through the throat. The butler and other maids were summarily dealt with, bullets to the head ensuring their silence. No witnesses.

A child's cry could be heard in the servants' quarters – just before the almost inaudible burst of fire ended both the cry and the child.

The leader of the two teams inspected the body for a second. Memories of his own children back home briefly flashed through his mind, a pang of guilt embedding itself in his mind like a sniper's bullet.

He shook it away. He was used to it by now. You do as you're ordered; end of story.

He ordered his men to plant the plastic explosives throughout the ground floor.

_**No Remorse**_

Aamina huddled under the bed with her younger brother, the gunshots echoing downstairs, as she heard the police sirens in the distance. She pulled him to her breast, trying to muffle his sobs and whispering to him, desperately wishing him to be quiet so they wouldn't be killed.

The gunfire stopped, the thump of bodies falling to the floor. Cold crept up her spine as she felt a wetness spread through her baby brother's trousers. He was shivering so violently she could hear his teeth chattering.

Booted feet rushed up the stairs. She did as her father told her, clutching a pistol and pointing it at the door. Behind the curtains her grandmother waited, pointing an AK-47, a trophy of her father's, at the door.

Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door. There was a whispered voice that she recognised: one of the new guards, asking who was in there and if they alright.

"Hakim, me and Nana are in here. Hamza is with us."

"Aamina, you must get out of here! Quickly, open the door-!"

His urgent whisper was cut short by his scream and several bursts of gunfire. Then the door slammed open. In seconds, gas flooded the room and she began to choke. Her grandmother dropped the rifle and stumbled out, only to be cut down in a precise 3-round burst to her head.

Her corpse fell to the floor eyes wide open in surprise, right in front of Aamina, hidden beneath the bed. Aamina began to scream, even as the dark figure fell into a crouch, a gun aimed at her. She raised her pistol.

Several bullets tore into her, shredding skin, muscle, ligaments and bone as if it were no more than wet paper.

Her last vision was of grey eyes staring at her, eyes filled with the fires of Al-Nar itself.

_**No Regret**_

It was a death sentence they were reading to him. By the time the police arrived, it would be too late. The sirens were still distant.

"Haytham bin Abubakar, while you're on the way to hell, beg forgiveness for all the innocents you have killed. But before that…"

A cry caught in his throat as his wife was brought before him. She carried their infant son in her hands. Teary eyed, she stared at him, before a man grabbed her by the throat and snapped her neck.

"Haidee…" he moaned. First there was the shock, like a lightning-bolt, and then the anger slowly rose in him, waiting to erupt. He leapt at the man but was held down by strong arms.

The man took off his mask, revealing a face of mixed descent, Persian features with a mix of Indo-Aryan, Korean, Chinese, Ainu and countless others melded into a frame set around grey eyes, cool as ice shards buried in the Arctic. In his early 30's, his eyes burned with fire that would have frozen the heart of Shaitan in fear.

"We have seven minutes before the police get here. The roads are blocked due to unfortunate accidents around your home. We want you to suffer for your crimes against the Malayan Union and the British Commonwealth. I am 1st Warrant Officer Aziz Zahedi, alias Aziz Yap Gang Hu, 1st Commando Battalion, 1st Commando Regiment, Special Operations Force. Senior Assistant Commander of the 2nd Operations Team of the Special Intelligence Directorate of the Malayan Union Military Forces. Give me the child."

A soldier handed the infant to him.

Haytham began to roar as he rose in desperate fury, already knowing the rest of his family was dead. His mother, his wife, his daughter, his other sons, his guards, his servants…

"What do you want? I'll give you money, I'll go with you, but please, don't… not… **NO!"**

Duct tape was placed over his mouth and his scream became muffled. The man who'd identified himself placed a pillow over the infant's mouth, its loud wailings ceasing as its face turned blue. It kicked feebly. The man kept the pillow over its mouth for a full minute, before lifting it.

Haytham's child slowly stopped struggling, its legs dangling. It looked asleep, if not for the fact that its chest did not rise… and would never rise again.

Haytham began to cry, tears pouring from his eyes. The infidels had taken everything away from him. Why had Allah forsaken him in his moment of need? Had he not done the Prophet's Will, detonating the nuclear bomb and killing the infidels? Why had he allowed his innocent family to be taken by these monsters?

Aziz tore off the duct tape and pressed a pistol, the very same pistol that Haytham had pointed at Aziz, against his mouth. Another man shot the infant in the head for good measure.

"Any last words, kafir?"

"_la ilaha il-Allah, wa Muhammadu..._ (There is no god but God and Muhammed is His prophet)"

Aziz shook his head sadly at these words. He briefly considered saying something, but what was there to say?

Aziz pulled the trigger. This gun was _not_ silenced – there was an ear-shattering **BANG!** Before you could even blink, the wall behind Haytham was spattered with an explosion of oxygen-rich blood and a decent amount of grey matter, which slid slowly down the newly-stained wall and slapped sickly onto the floor. The bullet lodged in his favourite painting: a Jawi calligraphy.

Aziz clicked his radio a few times, sending the signal over the combat net. Mission accomplished.

Now all they had to do was exfiltrate the neighbourhood, bypass the security services and get to the Singapore embassy before blowing the house down. An easily accomplished task for his team of 'Kravyads', named after the man-eating demons of Buddhist and Hindu mythology.

**WWW**

"Excellent work there, Warrant Zahedi. As arranged, your and your team-mates' pay for this mission have been transmitted to your accounts. The Union is glad to have men like you to perform such duties."

Aziz saluted smartly and waited until he was dismissed. The mission was accomplished, the objective achieved and diplomatic incidents avoided. The infrastructure and senior commanders, especially those involved in planning, operations, intelligence and logistics had been liquidated with no losses on their end.

"I am glad to serve my nation, sir. With permission, I have a… family event to attend soon. Permission to leave?"

"Granted." The Chief Director of the Special Intelligence Directorate waved him away as he turned his back to the innumerable amounts of paperwork that awaited him.

As soon as Aziz left, his officer made a note and placed an unsolicited recommendation for Aziz Zahedi, citing his professional excellence and performance. One of thirty-two that he had received in the past year. Certainly, men like him were few and far between. The Chief Director was glad that he was a patriot, for he wouldn't have it any other way.

**WWW**

Grace checked in on her eldest son Urenor, making sure he was asleep and not trying to sneak out and play his VR games or spar with his father. That husband of hers was intolerable. He really spoilt the children sometimes. In fact, he hardly ever disciplined them and was as much trouble as the children were. Thankfully, Urenor had inherited her quiet nature more so than the boisterous and rather multifaceted nature of his father.

As for the discipline bit… her mother made sure Grace's father and her grandchildren were kept in line while she was away. As for Aziz, he was the son that she'd never had. Which other son-in-law actually cooked with his mother-in-law?

She'd just recently gotten back from a trip overseas via near-orbital flight on Singapore Airlines, taking 12 hours to travel from New York to London and then to Singapore, rushing back for her father's birthday. Of course, the sub-orbital flights were far cheaper but taking a ghastly 24 hours upwards. Still, some people preferred them.

She walked to her daughter's room, saw a shadow in the corner of it and nearly screamed, before realising it was Aziz sitting in a chair, cradling their daughter.

She came closer, thinking that they were sleeping. She touched his shoulder and he flinched, a haunted look passing over his face as he looked at her, ageless eyes meeting her own.

"What's wrong Az?" she asked, her intuition going off like an alarm bell. Every instinct in her told her that something was wrong with him. She dropped to her knees, taking her daughter from his gentle grip that so lovingly cradled her, putting her gently back in her cot.

"Nothing. I… I just realised I'm really lucky to be a father to these kids; to have a wife like you; to have this home; parents like yours. I…"

He stopped speaking. Then, after a pause, he suddenly hugged her desperately, pulling her closer into his arms. She felt a shadow pass over his face before it was back to the mildly smiling, handsome face she knew and loved.

"Come on Az: come to bed. I'm tired and the children are sleeping. Besides, I want to show you something."

"What?" he replied, his interest piqued.

"Well, I got this nightshirt from Victoria's Secret and I just wanted to try it on."

"What's in it for me? I think you look good in anything," he replied, a slightly puzzled look coming to his face. She sighed. Even after more than a decade of marriage, he still had these uniquely dense moments.

"What else… but me?" she replied in a seductive voice. A spark lit up in his eyes.

**WWW**

"He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

"What?" asked Raven. She'd been stared at her boyfriend limping to the ring, eager to see the fight between Greg and Dick, but now looked across at Aziz, wondering what had prompted this non-sequitur.

"Just a quote I remembered. It's from Neitzsche. Fighting with Iskandar was… painful."

"Oh".

Raven shook her head. Her boyfriend had his moments.

"Dick is a happy person who'll never fall into the abyss, no matter how much he encounters it. I'm glad of that."

"What does this have to do with him fighting?"

"Nothing. It's just… well, I knew a person once, who became the very evil he fought. I know it's random, but sometimes I can get wistful, especially when I'm drunk."

"You didn't drink at all."

"Well, alcohol is just another kind of drug… and your beauty is as intoxicating and addictive as any."

"Don't be stupid, Aziz," said Raven abruptly. "You nearly died just now."

Aziz looked across at Raven, frowning because of her sharp reprimand. But then he smiled.

"Raven… are you… blushing?" he asked slowly.

"Of course not," Raven replied, apparently speaking to someone sitting on the other side of the room. "Now stop staring at me."

Aziz laughed lightly, and Raven couldn't blame him. Although she told herself such flattery was composed of empty words, she knew that was merely an intellectual construct rather than a true emotional feeling. He could be a real charmer sometimes, and now was one of those times.

**A/N**: Great thanks to my beta Ieuan, who improved the quality of this work tremendously. As for readers;REVIEW!I've not had a review in ages.Just say whats on your mind, even if its flames.It's bothersome.Especially my regular readers,PLEASE!

If I don't get any reviews within the next one week,I'm not going to post chapter 28 until July. That's my promise...


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**A/N**: Come on people, read and review. Give me your criticism's on how I can improve this! I 've come to realise that my plot seems to be a bit loose,but I'll be tightening things up after this chapter. This was done to tie up a few loose ends in earlier chapters (w/regards to Terra) and the next few will tie it up as well as resolve Starfire leaving. After that...well,you'll find out. :)

**Showdown of the Hitman and Hero**

_"Because we do not know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. And yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, an afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you cannot conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four, or five times more? Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless..."Brandon Lee_

Philip K. Dick's novel _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ (better known by its film adaptation _Blade Runner_) features androids known as 'replicants'. They are almost entirely indistinguishable from humans, but because they do not grow they are usually created as adults.

To further the illusion they are given false memories of their 'childhood'. The corporation that makes them discovers that additional memories can lead the replicants to become psychologically unstable, so it installs a 'failsafe' measure into all replicants that 'kills' them at a certain time.

All replicants are killed by the failsafe four years after they have been created. Most of them are not aware of this, believing themselves to be human. A few replicants become aware of the failsafe, but because they cannot remember when they were created they do not know when they will die.

The protagonist Rick Deckard has the job of 'retiring' (killing) rogue replicants. There is debate over whether or not he is also a replicant.

**WWW**

Greg met Dick's gaze, sizing him up. They moved in a circle, testing each other's defence. The match had started with the blow of a whistle a bare few seconds ago and already he felt the rush of adrenaline. It was to be three 3 minute rounds, with a minute's rest between each.

Sao Feng had insisted he wear a body shield of thin but hard foam, with headgear, shin and instep guards as well as MMA gloves. He'd been slightly shocked to discover Dick hadn't bothered to condition his striking surfaces, always wearing padded materials to protect them.

Greg was in a classic JKD stance, influenced by boxing, fencing and wing chun principles. From a left forward orthodox stance he suddenly shifted to a right forward southpaw stance and advanced, bobbing to the left and right.

Dick flashed out a kick, only for it to be intercepted by a stop hit, before Greg retaliated with an inverted short punch, lunging like a fencer, his arm extended like a rapier. Dick staggered back, as he was rapidly struck in the head. He blocked them and pushed away with both hands, shoving Greg away.

Dick swayed to the side and feinted left, just as Greg feinted left at the same time, before making it a _real_ movement rather than the feint it was supposed to be. He parried and countered, sending a palm straight into Dick's chest.

The rules they were fighting under were simple. Throws and takedowns were allowed, with any body part a valid target and any part of the body a valid weapon. Everything was allowed except a groin strike, eye gouges and bites. They were essentially fighting under the rules of Burmese Kickboxing with the addition of groundfighting; Vale Tudo.

If Muay Thai was the art of 8 limbs, Lethwei or Burmese kickboxing was the art of 9, with the allowance of head butts. It was as close as one could get to stand-up street fighting without actually street fighting.

A feint to his eyes caused Dick to blink, before he felt a strong arm lock around his neck. Before he knew it he'd been swept out in a reaping throw as Greg retreated from him, withdrawing to a safe distance in the time it took for Dick to land on the floor.

Rising up, he maintained a safe distance from Greg, trying to read his movements. One thought ran through his mind, simple and direct. _'This guy's good.'_

**WWW**

Idimmu observed them carefully. Greg was mainly trained in San Shou and Jeet Kun Do, but had received supplemental training in Visayan Corto Kadena Eskrima, Tukong Moosul, Lethwei, Bokator, Kalaripayat & the Hayastan Grappling System, rooted in the four major grappling arts: Judo, Sambo, JuJitsu, and Wrestling. He'd also been trained as a fencer and in Taekwondo as when younger, still obvious in his arsenal of kicks.

Not a master in any of those arts but a JKD instructor, they supplemented hi core skills greatly. It was an organic melding of principles that influenced his style.

While shorter than Dick at 5'9, himself at 5'7, he was a mature man in his late 20's, experienced and bringing a great degree of cunning to his fight. His build was lean and lanky but powerful, obvious in the whipcord exertion of his muscles. He was a proficient striker, preferring fast, vicious kicks and solid punches.

Dick on the other hand was a dynamic striker, being able to land highly co-ordinated and effective strikes. Fluid and evasive, he slipped in and out of reach, keeping the veteran fighter on guard.

Dick launched himself in a flying knee, landing a good hit before Greg clinched him, getting his arms within Dick's own and gaining a dominant position, hands locked around his neck. What followed was a vicious beating as he slammed his knees into Dick's abdomen, before locking his elbows together and throwing him to the side. With a hook, Dick cracked open Greg's face, a gash across his left cheek.

**WWW**

Greg watched Dick do a back flip, rising above his punch and landing further back. His opponent was vastly more agile and acrobatic, but he was beginning to tire. Dick's thighs were covered in ugly bruises, while Greg was in somewhat better condition.

He performed a lot of acrobatic actions, evasive but uneconomical, wasting his energy. Then again, with space to manoeuvre, it was the perfect tactic for evading an opponent and landing a blow.

The movements distracted most enemies, but all he had to do was wait, while Dick wasted his stamina. He was used to evading and dodging multiple opponents, not fighting an opponent who utilised strategy.

Shuffling and switching stances, Greg waited, conserving his energy, an ambush predator waiting for the opening to take down his prey. He let Dick waste his energy and expend himself. At that point, the whistle blew and both returned to their corners of the lei tai.

Where Dick had been evading, Greg had been patiently waiting, his initial aggression and targeting of his opponents thighs earlier allowing him an advantage as the match wore on.

The ache in his thighs was eating away at Dick as the match wore on, while he'd depleted his stamina dancing circles around Greg. On a points basis, Greg had won. But he'd paid dearly for it, visible in the gash on his face, as Az used cotton buds and a saline solution to irrigate it.

**WWW**

If he'd been hunting a criminal or fighting supervillains, Dick had the advantage of a team: an arsenal of tools and the environment around him. Here, all he had were the tools of his body, his own determination and a flat platform. It was like stilt-walking without stilts.

Greg blurred as he moved in, forcing Dick into a corner. He checked a kick from Dick and moved out, letting another kick sail over his head as he ducked down and moved back, letting Dick waste it.

Bending backwards as Dick made a desperate back thrust kick, Greg caught it, trapping the limb and lifting his other leg over it to lock it and bring him to the ground. In a wrestling move, he spun and sat on Dick's back as he fell to the ground, locking the knee and forcing the leg to move against its natural articulation, straining his hips, lower back and knee.

Within seconds, Dick tapped out. Compared to the previous match-up this one was far more conservative, though no less exciting. It was a match between two veterans of very close skill levels. Dick was following a strategy clear to experienced observers. The younger opponent was being taken apart.

**WWW**

Starfire looked on in dismay as Dick was slowly picked apart by Greg, landing hits and causing him to tire. All his strikes were directed at known pressure points, major muscle groups and joints, causing Dick to remain on the defensive. Limb destruction and attrition; it was now a contest of who could withstand the most pain or bring the other to the ground.

Dick's offensive style was excellent. However, the limitation of his style was his requirement for sufficient space to move and perform all the acrobatic moves that were his trademark, playing to his strength and making full use of his agility.

Dick began performing a capoeira-like move as he shuffled his hands on the ground and began to circle, swinging his legs out in wide arcs, kicking Greg in the face. Greg reeled back, a red mark visible on his cheek where the foot had slapped him.

Eyes narrowed, he retreated back as Dick moved forward, maintaining pressure on him. Starfire's heart lifted as she saw her lover corner the older fighter, before Greg launched out at Dick and checked his leg.

As Dick stopped spinning, Greg launched himself onto him and began to wrestle with him before finally setting up a guillotine choke. It could either have prevented blood flow to the brain or restricted air from transiting through the trachea, either of which resulted in unconsciousness.

Greg held himself locked onto him like a pit bull holding onto the throat of an opponent, doggedly ignoring the blows from Dick as they became weaker and weaker, until he felt him slump in his grasp.

Releasing his hold on him, he sunk to the floor and breathed heavily. He patted the unconscious boy and rose up, leaving him with a single statement.

"Good fight."

**WWW**

"Dick."

Aziz came down and sat beside him, settling himself into the chair. His torso was still covered in bandages, though the scars remained. Raven had tried to heal the scars, but the ones covering his chest and back defied her magic.

"You set up this fight to test me, didn't you? You did it knowing I would lose, just like you knew you would fight Iskandar to a draw."

"Dick. When I fought Iskandar I did it to test my limits. I went into that fight with no goal in mind except to fight. I didn't think about the result, but I went in knowing that I could lose, as I am now. I set you up in this fight thinking that you'd have a chance of winning, and you did."

"Obviously you math was wrong then" Dick said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. He was not a person accustomed to losing.

"You could have. You have potential. You simply lack the self-mastery to know yourself entirely, unlike Bruce.

Bruce has a reluctance to kill, but when pushed, he can and will do what is _absolutely necessary_. He can and has conquered the self-limitations in his mind. You have not."

"And you?"

Aziz grinned at him. "Me? What do you think I am?"

"What does that have to do with the question?"

"Some people masquerade as animals but sometimes an animal masquerades as a person. What do you think I am?"

A pregnant pause filled the sudden chill before Dick answered "A predator."

Aziz's grin reduced to its normal neutrality. "Good answer. As for how you felt, there were moments where you nearly had Greg, yet you didn't take it. Why?"

"I don't know... It was like I was... a fish in the water. I could see the flow. I could see where Greg was going to hit. I _knew_ what was going to happen. I _knew_ I could win. But..."

"You ignored it, chose to use logic and skill rather than that intuitive moment. You felt a steel shutter come down and separate you from that intuition as the fight wore on. You became like a blind man, seeking that sensation once more. At least that's what I saw."

Dick shook his head. "You have got to stop doing that, reading people like that. It's...scary. Seriously though, Greg's good. How would I beat him in a rematch?

"To beat him, just like any other fighter, you need to catch a fish. To catch a fish, you've got to think like one; _see_ like one. They go with the flow. They use the water surrounding their bodies to sense what'll happen next. If you move against the flow of the water the fish feels it and darts away at the last minute. But, if you don't fight the current, and flow _with_ it instead..."

"You catch the fish." Dick finished the sentence.

"Yes. You need to integrate the instinct, intuition and reflexes you have, the subconscious with the conscious. That's the only way you're ever going to exceed your limits."

"Anything else?"

"No. That is it. Now if you don't mind, I want to go get some breakfast from this really good place down the road."

Dick felt the rumbling in his stomach, only then realising how much energy he'd expended. Besides some toast in the morning, he'd neglected to nourish his body as he normally would, with a three course breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice.

What he was about to partake in was rather different.

**WWW**

"Have you noticed something strange about Aziz?" whispered Terra to BB, as he wolfed down a bowl of odamaki udon with great gusto. He was vegetarian, but that did not include dairy products or eggs.

Cyborg, Robin and Shafaq were digging into their meals with perhaps even more élan than BB (if that was even possible). Shafaq and Robin were already on their third serving of a combination of oyakodon, tamago kake gohan, tekkadon, katsudon and a sushi mega-platter, with everything imaginable from unagi to gravlax.

Starfire and Raven were sitting to one side, amazed at the endless appetite of those two. They'd been satisfied with tea and a few bowls of miso soup, Starfire opting for the easier dishes.

"What?" BB asked through a mouthful of udon noodles. Specks of it flew through the air and landed on Terra's face. She gave a slight shriek, starting backward from him.

The rest of the crew from Dalibor had closed it for an hour and had crowded into the same restaurant. They turned to look at the scene before chuckling among themselves. Izusa and Idimmu huddled into a corner while Iskandar and Naima were feeding each other. All of them shared a sukiyaki set in the centre, busily eating.

They had the restaurant to themselves, despite the large numbers of passers-by outside.

They'd felt it wise not to mention to any of the Titans the fact that, not only did Aziz own the restaurant, but that he owned the land and most of the property in the entire district of Stonewall Bay.

Most of the properties were simply leased out for periods of a decade or five years before renewal. He was the Donald Trump of Jump City. All of this was managed through subsidiaries and real estate companies under the ownership of Nair Electric.

Sao Feng's children sat in a separate corner, the older sister enforcing discipline among her younger siblings. A sidewards glance from their father, uncles and aunt helped to keep them in check. They glanced over and giggled as they observed their 'super-crazy fun older brother' (Aziz, naturally) and his girlfriend chatting and holding hands. Slowly, they made a plan.

Terra recovered her composure, looking regally around her to see if anyone had noticed (they hadn't), before she whispered into his ear again.

"He's started speaking in contractions. You notice how he always talked so formally? Well, now he's talking like a _normal_ person. I mean, around us he was so formal, but ever since he hooked up with Raven he's become so much more casual."

"Is that all?" asked BB, before tucking back into his meal. Terra just stared at him before huffing and going off to the washroom to apply makeup, or whatever strange, arcane activities it is women engage in while in a female washroom.

BB simply shrugged. A man's place was but to do and die, not to reason or understand a woman's why.

Just then, a mighty yell filled the restaurant as Aziz chased the children up the stairs, laughter gleaming in his predatory eyes. Raven sat spluttering, a 'miso soup' bomb having drenched her. For her 'dishonour', Aziz would seek appropriate revenge.

In the kitchen a guilty chef took pleasure, a grin crossing his face as he watched his boss trap the culprits, only for them to escape. Sao Feng joined in the chase. Life was good.

**WWW**

The rest of the day passed quickly with no disturbances. Cyborg tinkered with his body, modifying a program here, installing a broadband wireless modem and router there.

Several plates of beta carbon nitride matrix composite, harder than even diamond and more expensive per unit weight than gold had been procured by him, costing several million but worth it in his opinion.

BB ran through some combat drills with the bots, while Terra ran through the obstacle course. With an ease that unsettled him, she'd broken all of their records except Robin and Shafaq, who'd maintained equal timings.

Meanwhile, Starfire and Robin made plans for their holiday.

**WWW**

"So here are your first class tickets to Rio de Janeiro and Cape Town. All paid for with proper documents. _No_ superhero equipment beyond a single utility belt. Try to _enjoy_ your holiday, OK Robin?" Cyborg had found Robin trying to pack in some of his vigilante-related materiel, but he'd finally convinced him that while he was on holiday he did _not_ need to save the world.

Dick and Starfire waited at the terminal entrance, the team gathered around to say their goodbyes. It was over with quickly, the girls exchanging hugs, the guys slapping each other on the back or engaging in half-hugs, before piling back into the car and rushing off to make space for other vehicles.

Dick looked at Starfire and shook his head as Starfire was literally carrying all of their baggage. They did not want to attract attention at this juncture. Taking a particularly heavy bag from her hands, Robin decided discretion was the better part of valour before handing it back to her. In exchange he took the lighter items, while Starfire nonchalantly shrugged and picked up the heavy duffel, treating it as if it were no more than a feather.

Starfire walked closer to Dick and leaned in, whispering into his ear; "Dick, I want to know whether you're familiar with the 'Mile High Club'? Tara mentioned it to me and said it was a rather exclusive club which engaged in adventurous activities and I would like to try it out. She mentioned that we could join this club on the aeroplane."

Dick could only give a crooked smile, before whispering back into Starfire's ear. Her face became flushed, the image inducer detecting her body signs and making the appropriate adjustments to the solid light hologram. It let Dick know that he wasn't the only one looking to join the club.

**WWW**

Terra yawned as she stretched in her apartment. She had called in sick for the past two days at school and had a report due on Friday. It was her final year in secondary school and she'd already planned it out.

She'd undergo a one year matriculation course in Melbourne after doing her secondary exams, take a gap year then head to university.

As much as she enjoyed it, a life of fighting crime wasn't necessarily for her. Literally hundreds of thousands of meta-humans, hyper-humans, super-humans, mutants, mystical beings, supernaturally, mystically or scientifically-enhanced humans lived their entire lives without being noticed, leading quiet civilian lives, raising families, running businesses and doing their jobs.

In Europe superheroic vigilantism was rather frowned upon and required government regulation, the EU taking the approach that the best method was to regulate it, though many went on to become civil servants in a limited capacity.

In Asia as a whole it was unregulated and ungoverned, though restricted in China and Japan. In India, superhumans often gained celebrity status, going on to become national heroes engaged in military service, politics, police work or even Bollywood films.

In China, they covered an entire spectrum, some meta-humans becoming media personalities and serving the government or leading silent revolutions. In Japan, they were marketed with much aplomb and took part in super-sentai shows, other times working as stuntmen where their superhuman endurance and durability gave them an edge.

In Africa many metahumans served as tribal shamans or witch doctors, feeling that their powers were gifts from the gods or god, depending on their religion.

In South America, those who lived in the rural areas kept to their own business and remained isolated, serving their community and becoming tribal protectors or going on into government and corporate service, hiring themselves out as bodyguards.

In the USA, the politics of the entire issue were quite murky and messy at the same time, with stances ranging from accepting and promoting metahumans to seeking their destruction and 'purifying' the human race.

The KKK in that regard had declared the 'white race' superior, citing as evidence a preponderance of 'white' heroes, the majority being of Western and Northern European descent. It was a position that had earned them ridicule and isolation.

The UN itself was quite undecided on the matter of metahumans, preferring to ignore it and hoping in vain that it would disappear. Several resolutions classifying them as weapons of mass destruction had been unsurprisingly vetoed by the USA, China, Russia, the UK and France, simply because all of the major countries were engaged in metahuman weapons programs to one extent or another, though the USA had the largest projects by far (unsurprisingly).

Superheroes and villains comprised only a small but significant minority of the total population that actually had powers. Unsurprisingly, for most people whose powers developed in their adolescence and early 20's, many couldn't be bothered with such abstract concepts as global conquest, world domination or protecting the universe.

They simply wanted to do their jobs, enjoy life, have a good meal or game with their friends and family, eat, sleep, fall in love and do the things that most humans did.

As a whole, those with powers comprised only about 3-5 of the entire human population, with a more accurate estimate at 2.6 of the human population. It was a figure consistent ever since the beginning of human history. Scientists didn't really know why, but as it was such, it wasn't something you could argue with.

In essence, Terra was one who wished to join the silent majority and live her life without worrying constantly about others. She didn't want to worry about some deranged lunatic spending the better part of his or her time planning her demise or people she had never met trying to kill her in one way or another.

She didn't want to have to worry about some gorilla pumped full of steroids and other physiological and pharmaceutical enhancements trying to disembowel her or a madman like Deathstroke coming after her.

She'd been seeing a therapist to resolve her issues and thankfully had recovered under her treatment. Her desire was selfish in a sense, but also perfectly understandable. However, it was not to be.

The ring of the door bell alerted her to someone coming in.

She was immediately on guard. Every visitor to her apartment had to go through Bob at the security counter. As she reached for a concealed revolver, the video phone rang. Bob's harried face appeared on the monitor.

"Ms Markov, I tried to stop them, I really did, but they had official badges and stuff. Some diplomatic stuff, as well as a police escort. They went up to your apartment and-"

"I know Bob. It's OK. Let me deal with it." Terra switched off the phone and woke Garfield, who lay sprawled across her couch in his underwear. He hopped on one leg, pulling on his Bermudas.

Terra opened the door, coming face to face with a man who could have been a male version of her. She knew him; had seen his face countless times in the media. The King of Markovia; the hero Geo-Force. Brion Markov. _Her brother._

They stood in her doorway, staring at each other, before Brion reacted just as she expected he would. He grabbed her in a bear hug and twirled her around, tears flowing from his eyes as he tried to laugh and cry at the same time.

Terra flopped around like a rag doll, speechless and unable to react beyond hitting him and trying to get him to let go as she fought to breathe. What she faced was a totally unexpected situation she wasn't prepared to encounter.

Family reunions.

**WWW**

There was an awkward silence haunting the apartment. BB and Terra sat on the couch, Brion sitting opposite them. Outside the apartment several armed guards stood, diplomatic and military attachés bearing the royal sign of Markovia.

"I've spent the better part of a decade looking for you, Beatriz. Ever since you disappeared, I've been searching for you. How long has it been? Five… no – _seven_ years since we last met."

Tara nodded, accepting the label of her real name. She'd never revealed details about her family to BB, simply choosing to remain silent on the matter. Her full name was in fact Princess Tara Beatriz Adrijana Dragana Markov.

BB wisely chose to remain silent, taking in the knowledge of her royal lineage, observing the man who sat in the couch. A chiselled chin with broad shoulders, icicle-blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, he was a very masculine version of Terra. He walked with a regal air, expected of one who was born and bred to lead.

Brion eyed him in turn, examining this green-skinned youth with an experienced eye. He'd entered the apartment to find him throwing on a shirt to cover his exposed chest. Tara's boyfriend, he was Garfield Logan the Beast Boy. He'd known of him since the beginning and had been briefed on him.

He also knew of Deathstroke's illicit relations with his sister, something that he'd sworn the intelligence service to silence about. It was not something he _ever_ wanted publicised in the media, let along the Internet. Better have it exist as some of that perverse fiction that was written on the Web. It greatly discredited such a story being fact, which it was.

"How did you find me?" she asked him. Brion motioned to a middle-aged woman outside, who entered the apartment. She looked rather familiar. She glanced at Brion, who nodded. Pulling a brown wig out of her handbag, she pulled it on before inserting inserts into her cheeks, plumping them.

Tara gasped in shock. The cleaning lady stood before her. If nothing, it helped explain why she'd always been so friendly to Tara, treating her with a respect and friendliness that she never extended to other residents in the apartment complex. With a wave of his hand, Brion dismissed her.

"Oh."

"That and the fact that we looked through Slade Wilson's accounts and tracked his assets, several estates and apartment buildings which were transferred to a holding company that manages them for you."

"But why now? Why didn't you come for me when I was a Titan?"

"It was far too public, my dear Bea. I wanted to let you mature and grow up. After your mother died, rest her soul, father wanted me to look out for you, but I was busy consolidating power at home and sorting out diplomatic relations with Kasnia, Turkey and Russia. Due to political… fluctuations in our relationship with the USA, I needed time to sort everything out.

If you remember, we were once a part of the USSR and I lived in exile in Israel. After the Iron Curtain fell, I was busy reuniting our people and purging traitors from governments, as well as persuading NATO and the EU to let us join. Once that was solved, I was involved with a marriage and other things. So only recently did I have the time to attend to my personal affairs."

"OK. So you come here, invade my life and expect me to just go back to Markovia with you?" asked Terra, glaring at her brother. "Brion, you're my brother but I barely even know you. I only met you a few times as a child, and even then only briefly. I've got a life here. I have plans for my own life and-"

Brion cut her off. "What gave you the idea that I came here to take you back to Markovia? I'm here because I wanted to see you again. I'm here simply to tell you that yes, I would like you to come back and visit me and your nephews and niece at some point.

"I wanted to let you know that you have a family waiting for you. We share the same blood from the same father, Bea. It was his wish that I look after you, and now I am in a position to do so. If you have plans, go ahead with them as you will. I've witnessed how you've grown up and, well… you're your own woman."

Tara put her hand to her mouth. The reunion with her brother was nowhere near as dramatic as she'd expected. In fact, it was rather anticlimactic. Aside from the initial drama of hugging her nearly to death, he was perfectly happy to let things be as they were; to live and let live.

Abruptly, a shrill beeping came from the Titan's communicator at BB's side. Garfield opened it up, looking at Brion and apologising. Terra looked over his shoulder as the text scrolled downwards. A disturbance at the corner of 5th Street and the Citibank building in the business district needed their urgent assistance.

"Brion… I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Don't apologise. I think I'd rather like to come and take a look."

Tara blinked. "But how will you get there?"

Brion simply smiled and without warning dashed to the balcony, where he threw himself off the building. Feeling the force of gravity embrace him, he twisted and warped it, letting himself levitate before soaring into the skies. He returned a moment later, levitating in front of the balcony.

"Didn't you know? It's not the flying I have a problem with."

Terra summoned a slab of solid granite that she kept on the roof of the building, letting it float down to her level. She stepped on it and let it float to her brother's level.

"It's just smashing into the ground that bothers me."

**WWW**

Raven pulled Cyborg out of the wreckage of the prototype Cy-Jet. It was a mangled wreck, flattened into a skyscrapers' north face.

"Nice crash there, Cy. Care to fill me in on your plan?"

"There's no need to be so damned sarcastic about it, woman!" said Cyborg, rather incensed by having one of his technological masterpieces turned into so much scrap-metal. "And no, I did _not_ crash the plane. I simply relocated the aircraft with extreme prejudice, after a complete loss of lift and thrust functions!"

Shafaq hovered above the scene with Sky Blue, observing the situation. A six-armed man with weapons in each hand was raising havoc, firing wildly into the air, screaming incoherently about the Illuminati and the New World Order.

In one arm he wielded a missile launcher, blindly launching missiles into the buildings around him. Shafaq commanded Sky Blue to intercept them before launching himself at the man. His Shadowcry Warsuit Series 2 flickered, the Octocamo system rendering its outer surface a blur, before the hydrostatic gel layer increased in pressure.

Shafaq collided with the man and in an instant was hacking away at him. Sabre-staff extended he cut through the man's high-tech armour, deftly evading the swings of his limbs.

However, what he didn't expect was for the armour to have self-healing properties. As soon as he hacked off an arm, the metal limb regrew, morphing into a spike that lanced out at him.

Shafaq jumped off the ground, twisting his body sideways before a steel tentacle smashed him through a wall. Obviously, he was going to have to reassess his tactics.

The man cackled loudly. "FEAR ME TITANS. FOR NOW YOU FACE… THE WELSHMAN!"

Cyborg audibly groaned. "Not another one. And who the hell are the Welsh?"

Shafaq spoke over the comlink: "A quaint, little people just west of England, Cy. Picture the Scots without the sex appeal or the Irish without the laughs and you've pretty much got them nailed. Watch out though – he's a brick. It's like being hit by a Mac truck, and as if that wasn't enough he regrows his arms. I think he's got some sort of interdimensional pocket where he draws his weapons from."

A missile soared into the air, narrowly missing Raven and Cyborg.

"Raven, drop me."

"Are you _crazy?_ From this height?"

Cyborg simply winked at her.

"Well… alright, but don't blame me if you end up like your precious Cy-Jet back there." She let go.

**WWW**

Raven sent a telekinetic screen slamming into the 'Welshman', grinding him into the concrete. In the air, Cyborg slowed his descent with bursts from his jetpack and jet boots, angling his descent. When he was directly over the fallen Welshman Raven lifted her screen, while Cyborg let himself drop like a rock.

Cyborg's body was nearly a full metric ton of titanium superalloy, artificial organs and superconductive circuitry, armoured in a shell of ceramic carbides, a titanium matrix composite and the recently added beta carbon nitride plates, harder even than diamond.

From a height of ten stories, he dropped like one-ton rock and hit the prone Welshman. The column of dust rose high into the night sky.

Cyborg climbed out of the six foot deep crater at the impact site. Suddenly, a wild sound began to play as the Welshman rose from the crater, limbs and armour regrowing.

"Ach laddie! Ya think yeh can stoop the WELSHMAN? FEEL THE WRATH OF MY… PIBGORN!"

"A Welshman with a Scottish-?" was all Cyborg could reply before a sonic blast sent him flying head over heels.

Raven sent a telekinetic whip lashing at him. The Welshman produced a taser cannon and launched it at her. The taser hooks embedded themselves into her skin, and then a powerful current slammed into her. Her sudden scream was cut short as the taser lines were cut. She fell to the ground stunned, Shafaq catching and passing her to Cyborg.

Charging him in a direct line, Shafaq let the initial few bullets slam into his warsuit before dodging to the left and right. Accelerating, he tackled the Welshman's midsection and brought him to the ground, retreating out of the reach of his limbs as he fired his pistols at the junction of his limbs. The live rounds were stopped short by his armour.

A tentacle lashed out and he deflected it, slicing it with his sabre-staff down the middle and firing his pistol at the man's legs. The bullets buried themselves into his knees, dropping the Welshman to the ground. The Welshman ignored them, getting up as the wounds closed up, the bullets pushed out of the flesh.

"Is that all yeh goot yeh STOOPID GIT?"

"No. But if I were you, I'd duck."

Before the Welshman could utter a word, a concrete block slammed into him with the velocity of a speeding vehicle. He could no longer move as he struggled to get up, his own weight immobilising him as Terra, BB and Brion appeared.

The Welshman roared and slowly rose. Brion furrowed his brow in concentration, Terra sending up tendrils of rock to entrap the Welshman. BB jumped into the air and transformed into an octopus, his tentacles looking themselves around the limbs of the Welshman as he wrestled him into submission.

With a desperate strength, the Welshman brought the pibgorn to his mouth and blew a single note. Terra and Brion immediately clutched their heads in agony, while BB's limbs began to convulse. The Welshman rose and kicked him. He aimed an assault rifle at Terra, the bullet impacting instead off Shafaq as he moved into melee range.

The Welshman emptied an entire clip into Shafaq at _point blank_ range, but his armour shrugged it off like so many Nerf pellets. Shafaq used his augmented strength to lift the Welshman off the ground. Lifting him overhead he threw him into an open canal, winding the villain who spluttered as he rose.

Shafaq followed him, his knee slamming into his face before he was grabbed by the arms of the Welshman. The Welshman began to pull, before beings slammed in the face by multiple knee strikes, cracking his teeth and jaw.

"Yeh'll peh fer that! Ah'll break yer arms!"

Shafaq replied with another kick, before ripping his arm free from the grip of the metal limb and landing a solid punch to his midsection. The man staggered back in the knee-deep waters of the canal, before a tentacle spike stabbed into Shafaq's armour, lifting Shafaq off the ground and slamming him into the water. It twisted and tore at his helmet, just as his sabre-staff cleaved through it.

Suddenly the wind began to pick up, the temperature dropping by several degrees. In the sky appeared a figure wearing a balaclava and baggy clothes, though obviously a woman. The Welshman stared up at the new arrival while Shafaq turned his attention to both, observing the new arrival for signs of hostilities. Brion, BB, Terra and Raven studied the new arrival warily, while Cyborg landed in the water beside Shafaq, his sonic cannon aimed at the Welshman.

The woman lifted her arms to the sky and lightning arced down from the heavens, lancing into the Welshman. A blue blur appeared around the Welshman, and Cyborg felt a powerful magnetic force begin to coalesce around the Welshman.

The Welshman roared unintelligibly and took potshots at her, but they were simply stopped in place, the projectiles rotating in the barrels of their guns. With a crack, his armour began to peel apart, the electromagnetic fields peeling them open.

"SHOOT HIM CYBORG!" the new arrival shouted at him, her voice excited and frantic at the same time.

Cyborg drew a bead on him and cut loose with the cannon, the sonic resonance cannon and ion cannon slamming into the Welshman with enormous concussive force. A tornado formed around the Welshman and lifted him into the air, the rotating column of air trapping him.

He blew another note on his pibgorn, but to no avail. Shafaq drew a bead on it. Compensating for the speed of the tornado and his rotating position within, Shafaq fired a single bullet from his pistol. The pibgorn fractured at the bullet travelled through it lengthwise, stopped by his jaw which broke once more, before regenerating.

"Yeh'll peh fer dis yeh FAT AMERICAN BITCH!"

The airborne woman's eyes narrowed at the shouted insult. In an amplified voice that dripped with chilling contempt, she replied in a roar to the insult.

"I'M. NOT. **AMERICAN!**"

Directing the power of several lightning bolts at the trapped villain, it incinerated the techno-mystical armour while the electromagnetic fields shredded it apart. The shards of the armour landed in the water, gradually dissolving into it.

**WWW**

An Anglo-Saxon man in his 60s was all that was left. The tornado dissipated and he dropped to the ground, a glowing jewel grafted to his chest. With the efficiency of an experienced butcher, Shafaq carved the jewel out of his chest, slicing into the flesh with a kindjal blade. Once it was out he pulled stitching equipment and bandages from his hip pouch.

Dragging the man up to the road, he quietly and methodically stitched up the open wound, before squirting antiseptic gel on it and covering it in a thick bandage.

Shafaq tossed the blood coated gem to Cy, who passed it to Raven to deal with.

**WWW**

"The name's Umoya. I'm new here in Jump and when I heard about it over the radio I figured I'd drop in to help."

The girl spoke her voice muffled through the balaclava. She'd used her metahuman powers over the weather to amplify it earlier.

"Well... um... Umoya, we could have handled it you know," answered BB, running his hands through his hair somewhat awkwardly.

"Sure you could have. But then again, if I recall, you were unconscious or stunned along with the rest of your team. Goth girl over there couldn't stand; the two blondes could barely move and some green guy dressed in a tight purple outfit that looks really damn gay was laid out against the wall of that building over there. I think that was you. The only two guys fighting were that badass metal guy and Mr Silent. So how about some thanks instead of telling me you didn't need help?"

Shafaq cut in quietly. "We thank you for your aid Ms. Umoya. Zulu for the wind. South African I presume?"

BB left him to it, turning his back on her to attend to Terra. Anyone who called him gay had better be prepared to receive the cold shoulder, even if he was in a form that didn't have any shoulders.

Umoya smiled. "Not many people know that. And yeah, I was born in South Africa. You can tell by the accent I guess."

Shafaq peeled off his helmet, most of his face except his eyes concealed by a bandana and black cloth that stretched over his chin.

Umoya was taken aback, stumbling at his gaze. She locked eyes with him for several heartbeats. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu assailed her as she met his gaze, while Shafaq merely stood silently. An air of tension suddenly existed between them, crackling like electricity.

Aziz didn't move, staring at the woman.

_No. It couldn't be her. It can't._

A single choked word escaped his mouth, visible sparks of emotion showing in his eyes.

"_Grace."_

"My name isn't Grace. It's Norah. Norah Dyas."

Shafaq was brought back to the present when he felt a hand encircle his own. Raven's.

"Az, is everything OK?" she asked him, looking between him and Norah.

He turned to Raven and felt her head, checking for injuries. Raven blushed slightly as he tenderly flicked a stray strand of hair from her forehead. She looked into his eyes and noticed a troubled look in them, something confirmed over their bond.

"I should go," Norah said, the same haunted look on her face.

She summoned the winds, escaping from the scene as sirens wailed in the distance.

**WWW**

Urenor watched the events unfold from distant branes of energy and interstices of planes and dimensions; saw time distort even more, the sequence of events rippling and warping.

He existed outside of it, watching the play. Like Shakespeare had said so many times in different worlds; _All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts..._

"_The eyes may be fooled by a woman's disguise, but the heart never fails to recognise_."

He simply shook his head. "Women...the most fiendish instrument of torture ever devised to bedevil the days of man.

"Father in his human form is rather a _true man,_ at least by Nietzsche's definition, is he not Uren?"

Sorentho and Ghanima folded into existence beside their elder sibling.

Urenor simply nodded, quoting Neitzsche.

"_The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants __woman__, as the __most dangerous plaything__."_


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**An Era Ends Part 1**

_I think innocence is something that adults project upon children that's not really there. - Donna Tartt_

_In the end, Raven only began to know the truth of herself when she lost her innocence; when she saw what sort of actions Shafaq was willing to take to defend her. It was through his actions that she lost her innocence and preserved her life._

_Four Marks to mark the transition from Titan to Raven Queen; a slow transformation. The effect it had on all of us when we found out... It was a rough time when Trigon came back. That's all I really want to say._

_-Garfield Logan, ex-Titan, CEO of Markov Media, Prince Consort of Tara Markov I of the Kingdom of Markovia_

_Innocence has many definitions. One definition is that of a lack of knowledge of the world or a concept, or a lack of guilt. For a victim to be innocent requires a presence of guilt. In my experience, everyone has degrees of innocence and guilt within them. The only person who I really know to lack any form of innocence was Azaluhaiz, or Aziz, as I knew him. Then again, he wasn't exactly human, so it may not apply to him._

_-Gregory Pereira_

_Innocence is the most commonly-used word for what I call 'total faith'. The thing that defines humanity is its faith: the ability to believe or hope in the face of all reason. We call sociopaths inhuman or bestial, but animals would never turn on their fellows without reason. That is because they never had any faith to lose. Animals do not believe in gods; they do not believe that there is an order or greater scheme to things, or that good and evil exist. We do._

_Because we believe that good exists, we want the world to be good. Of course we do. We want to live in a world that rewards our faith in good things and good people by continuing to be good. Although it often does, this cannot be the case forever. You can believe with all your mind, body and soul that a rock will not drop, but it will drop, regardless. Sooner or later your faith will go unrewarded, and a tiny part of you will be stained by cynicism: the gravestone of faith. That is why prolonged maintenance of total faith, that is to say innocence, is impossible._

_- An excerpt from The Collected Philosophies of Damon Kazuaki_

**A/N**: To all the loyal readers, I'm going to be tightening the plot. A lot of stuff was planned but I'm tightening it after gaining experience and some harsh but necessary advice from my beta. Next few chapters will tie up various plot elements and minimise the holes. I ask forgiveness for the detour, but like the Ganges River, this story will reach the end despite meandering. The story and its author have simply meandered a bit far from the plains.

Titans won't be mentioned much and OCs will be dealt with accordingly. As for overpowered extradimensional beings...well..._deus ex machina!_ The poor writers solution. If Greek poets could carry it out, Kevin J Anderson and Brian Herbert pull it off multiple times in one story and George Lucas pull stuff out his ass for Star Wrs 1,2 and 3,I can do it too.

Also, please don't read Sidney Sheldon books. They are TRASH! Read mine..:)

**WWW**

Sophia ran her hands over her still flat abdomen. Consciously, she adjusted the nutrient balance of the amniotic fluid in her two amnions that surrounded the embryos, the children of her and Bruce Wayne, maintaining a perfect balance of electrolytes, protein, carbohydrates, lipids, phospholipids and urea.

In actual terms, he had served primarily as a stud and sperm donor. Sophia doubted that he'd have any part to play in nurturing children.

He couldn't be a father. Biologically speaking he had proved himself capable, but in the proper sense of the traditional family unit he just couldn't fulfil that role. He had long ago dedicated his entire life to a single purpose, and there was no space left in it for children. Talia al Ghul understood this. She was willing to sacrifice her husband to his purpose while raising her children.

Sophia tapped away at her laptop, bringing up the files she'd wanted to review.

She jumped as she heard a sudden knock, turning to see the very devil of her thoughts.

"Brother."

"Sophia. I trust you are well." His face was neutral as always, his biosigns unchanged.

Sophia grinned. "So how did you get past all my security systems? They're the most sophisticated on the market, straight out of Israel. Same for the reinforced doors."

Aziz tapped his head, with the merest suggestion of a smirk. "I designed them, remember?"

"How could I not?" she replied wryly.

"So how are your children doing?" he continued, quite conversationally. "What of the genetic projections you made of me as a breeding stud for Raven? Or your decision to sire children by Bruce Wayne?"

Her face fell, her eyes narrowing and lips a grim slash. "How did you discover that? That's secret information-"

"It was hidden behind several layers of security, encrypted by several Associated Intelligences and Artificial Intelligences, many of a hyperturing grade. Along with proprietary security software and firewalls programmed by you and licensed by the Department of Defence over the substandard Microsoft slugware."

"But how did you-?"

"I accessed the files. Your chemical scent has changed, and I detected the scent of Bruce Wayne wafting from your bedroom. Similarly, Jaras informed me of the situation. He was my apprentice after all. Just as he trained Natas who trained Deathstroke, so did I train Jaras."

"I see…" Sophia replied.

"No, you don't. That is why you're checking up on my files to see why the Janthril Grand Matriarch is getting involved in the issues at hand, of Project Raven Queen. Not to forget your questions about why a brigade of Torrasque Ushtars simply showed up in orbit in a transdimensional shiftship and ransacked my formerly secret bunker."

Sophia sighed heavily, looking at her foster brother with annoyance.

"Stop doing that. It's annoying, how you always know what's going on."

Aziz smiled. "I have my sources, but unfortunately for me, a certain voice in my head doesn't know when to shut up."

"Charming," Sophia replied. Her tone indicated anything but pleasure.

"When they first assigned me to guard Raven, I was clueless. I didn't question, but too many things didn't add up after a while. The shifts in reality that the Janthrils orchestrated, the hidden interference, why they didn't deploy Rayaan earlier… it was all too complex. So I took actions to reduce the variables. I'm still reducing them, with the help of an old friend."

"And what variables are those? Speaking of which, those Ushtars have done an excellent job of evacuating all the refugees from this planet. Care to explain why they're not responding to my commands anymore?"

"The Orodruin, shiftship of the Torrasque Ushtars, of a lineage from the Arashikage Peshmerga. I have a lot of pull with all the organisations loyal to the Janthrils."

Sophia simply shook her head in disbelief.

"Aziz Zahedi, Karas'thy Raksa and a member of the Janthril Warmaster Azaluhaiz's personal retinue. At least that's all I could get when I asked Onraed why the hell the Ushtars had shown up. It's interesting, how much of your life is a blank slate to me. We all have our secrets, Aziz, but how much pull do you actually have that you can call on a favour and order an _entire_ Ushtar brigade to aid in evacuating the Corvinii and Chiropterans from here despite it not being their job? Were you a general? A special agent of the Warmaster? A Janthril Custodian?

"_Who the hell are you?"_

The last was a telepathic whisper. She stared at this man, a man who'd raised her and taught her so much; a foster brother she'd looked up to and admired since the beginning of her time.

He was no longer the same man. His face, voice and speech were the same, but he had become something utterly alien to Sophia.

"I am the father of Grand Matriarch Ghanima Karas'thy Raksa Janthril and her brother Sorentho Janthril, lover of the former Grand Matriarch Chayara Janthril. I am the father of the hybrid Imperial Ulthaj and Cha'Gukal, Urenor. I was the Warmaster of the Janthril Dynasty, last and greatest; God-Emperor of a Myriad Universes and more, Shah of Heroes, Lord of Nightmares and King of Conquerors."

"No." Sophia began to back away, head shaking in denial. Irrational fear began to overwhelm her as she looked at the being before her, eyes burning with sparks of gold. The man who was her brother now spoke in a voice that sounded like nails scratching across the soul, if such a sound could exist.

"I am everything and nothing. I am known by many names, but as a person known by none, nor shall I ever be. I am the void; the shadow; the twilight; the dusk; the evil; the darkness. I am the chaos; the order; the light; the stars; the shades of grey and the blackness of space. I am both the white and the black. I am beyond eternity and infinity. Think of epochs to the power of eons compounded by time without end, for that is as long as I have existed."

Sophia began to crawl backwards, the computer falling from her hands as she looked up at him, her hands shaking. A cry rose in her throat, but was choked down. Her hands began to shiver as golden runes formed over the skin of the _thing_ before her.

"Think of your awareness; of the awareness of Onraed; of a being with a million eyes and ears whose awareness of all things stretches across a cosmos. Think of a mind, multiplied infinitely and taken to the depth of forever, and you will have hardly even touched upon my true nature."

"_No."_

Then the voice became harsher, a horrifying sound like the flames of a primeval hell reaching upwards to engulf her in their ferocity, as the voice of _Rukt _spoke, as the shell of Aziz who was Azaluhaiz slipped his hand to the side and let Rukt out but a mere inch.

"**Are you righteous? Kind? Does your confidence lie in this? Are you loved by all? Know that I was too, once. Do you imagine your suffering will be any less because you loved goodness and truth?**

**KNOW MY SUFFERING AND MY WRATH! I AM BEYOND EVIL! I AM THE DEVOURER OF ALL! I AM THE DARK BLADE WHO ONLY AZALUHAIZ WIELDS! I FEED ON ETERNITY! I CONSUME INFINITY! I AM ENDLESS WAR AND DEATH FOREVER INTERTWINED!"**

Sophia crawled backwards hugging her womb as she felt the embryos, barely a few weeks, begin to panic, a manic terror that seized her and them in a vacuum of bottomless darkness. They weren't conscious, but that wasn't required. They were alive. That was all the dread blade needed.

Rukt was sealed back in its sheath, blackness like blood oozing from the scabbard.

"But before all of that, I am your brother. I am a mortal man, Aziz Zahedi, born of noble Persia and ancient Sparta, descended from the kings and whores of Babylon, the maharajas of India and the aristocrats, artisans and societies of a million times a million nations. I am the descendant of slaves and beggars and criminals. I am the descendant of warriors and murderers, product of the love and lust of a man and woman. I am a monument to the sorrows and sins of humanity in this form, as Azaluhaiz is to all species that ever were and ever will be."

"_What are you_?"

Aziz knelt down to Sophia's form on the floor, her eyes brimming with panic and no small amount of awe and terror. He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. She hugged herself tighter, looking like a small girl once more.

A scared, deluded child.

"I am Aziz, a human shell; a detachment; an incarnation; a mere echo of Azaluhaiz, the one who is destined to confront the Ulthaj Nightmare: the Great Devourer himself. I am the true aim of the Ulthaj for that purpose via Raven, the one who sleeps that shall be wakened. Aziz is but an echo of what I truly am. Raven's awakening and special destiny is but a process in something greater than anything in this universe."

Sophia's eyes sunk to the floor, unable to meet his gaze.

"Warmaster Azaluhaiz, I-"

Then his voice was soft once more, no more a tower of terrible majesty. It was Aziz once again.

"I am your brother and I love you, Sophia, but there's a path I must take. I'm bound by destiny. As are all of you: my family and the ones I love. I'm a dead man walking and I made the mistake of my mortal side to fall in love with so many people that they are trapped with me. There's only one way out."

"And what is that way?"

He turned to leave, his silence being her answer. As he reached the window, Jaras slammed through the ornate oak door, hands at the ready. The minute he saw Aziz, he stopped, genuflecting to him.

"Master."

"Jaras. Please leave me and my sister. I will talk to you after."

Jaras exited, closing the door.

"Sophia. Do what you must to survive. The Ahriman Society is growing in power and it is up to us to deal with it. It is my duty, my dharma, to deal with them. I have some time before I die. Three years or more; I can't tell. The Torrasque Ushtars will evacuate those of the Corvinii and Chiropterans who came to this world and will maintain a dimension gate on this end and a small force of a hundred soldiers. They're meant to evacuate you and your associates, all my friends and their family should anything go wrong. The less of my people we have exposed, the less hostages Ahriman can take. Once I have nothing to lose, I have no need to hold back."

"What of Anya?" Sophia asked, sniffling as she looked at him.

Aziz paused, hesitating before answering. "She's a loose end I'll have to deal with."

**WWW**

Aziz stood on the roof of the Vittoria Complex Skycraper with Jaras, the Titans Tower visible in the distance.

"Jaras, am I an evil man?"

Jaras looked up quizzically at Aziz. Though he was more than sixty years old, he looked barely more than twenty-five. It was a consequence of the energies flowing through him and his mastery of them.

"No, Azulahaiz. I believe not. You have done many things that are evil, that is indisputable, but they were always in the service of stability and the greater good. People have lived better lives because of your actions. Lives have been saved, and societies enriched."

"Is that so?" Az asked, his tone distinctly thoughtful and his eyes distant. Jaras didn't answer, deeming it a rhetorical question.

"Protect my sister to the best of your ability, Jaras. Make sure she doesn't lose her way in this war. You, Eko and Tyu are the ones I trust the most. Make sure to protect her smile."

"Is that all?"

"That's all, Jaras. You may leave."

As Jaras turned, he heard Azaluhaiz speak in a soft voice.

"Thank you."

Jaras nodded and left. It was worrying. Generally his master wasn't so conversational. Something about him had changed over the decades but Jaras couldn't quite put his finger on it. His surrogate parent was simply too enigmatic at times.

As Aziz mounted Sky Blue and activated the hover engines, he whispered to himself a question that had plagued him since he'd come to this world. Of the nature within him.

"_This great evil. Where does it come from? How did it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from?"_

**WWW**

Raven looked around the living room of the tower. It was oddly deserted, empty of the normally joyous voice of Starfire or the yells of Robin and Cyborg as they chased BB around the tower.

Her thoughts wandered to Terra and BB. It'd been mildly surprising to discover her heritage but didn't give much thought to it. BB was currently hanging out with Terra somewhere in the urban jungle while she pursued the 'womanly art of shopping', as BB had labelled it.

Cyborg had left to visit his father at Stone Tech headquarters regarding personal affairs. Though no one commented on it, the relationship between Cyborg and his father was known to be estranged. Considering how most, if not all of them, had bad relationships with their parents, they felt it a pity that Victor didn't try harder to reconcile, seeing how it was his father who often approached him.

Of all the Titans, Terra had at the very least a brother while they now knew that Bruce Wayne was in fact the adoptive father of Dick. BB had no living relatives aside from the Doom Patrol to speak about, what with the obvious tensions between Mento and him.

Raven had no need to comment on her family relations. Her father had nearly destroyed the entire world. Of all of them, Cyborg was the Titan with the distinction of having a living parent who they were estranged from by choice.

Walking into the training room, she noticed all the deactivated droids. Looking around, she shaped a telekinetic blade around her forearm. It was trick Aziz had taught her, using her telekinesis to enhance her physical attributes and speed.

It was different due to the fact that she never focused her telekinesis _in_ her body but outside of it. Her meditations had taken on a deeper tone as well and she found herself able to react faster than before. Her senses had become more acute while, unnoticed by others, she'd begun to heal faster.

Slowly, she was able to reconcile her demonic heritage with her human side, accepting them both for what they were. It helped to have two companions accompany her in her dreams. Urenor was always the silent one, never saying more than a word or two. He was reticent to talk and seemed the wiser of the two, if that could be said.

With Sorentho it had become a close friendship, him verbally jousting with her and pushing her in several different directions at once. He'd drop hints about his father every now and then, but Raven found them extremely hard to reconcile with what she'd witnessed of Aziz.

Was he a man who inspired fear? Certainly but she couldn't imagine him having accomplished half the things she'd heard he'd done.

"Activate combat training, safety mode off."

"Which level do you wish to train at?" the metallic voice chirped.

Smirking slightly, she decided to see how Aziz went about his training. How good was he?

"Shafaq-level."

**WWW**

Aziz stepped through the lift doors, hearing the sound of metal clanging against metal, a million thunderclaps echoing through the room. Suddenly Raven flew through a portal into the room, a look of panic on her face.

It dissipated the instant she laid eyes on Aziz. As she opened her mouth to speak, the sound of thunder echoed through the tower as the wall melted behind her. Through the pall of metal vapours and concrete dust the droids stood defiant, aiming their weapons at them.

"Kukulwodokwanamoolookanazek," Aziz pronounced, the syllables spilling from his mouth. The droids immediately halted, turned and marched back to their recharge stations.

Aziz eyed Raven, sparks of laughter in his gaze. "Care to tell me why you were running from the training droids?"

"Well… uh, I… disabled the safeties and asked them to fight at your level. And how about a more normal safety word?"

There was a pregnant pause before Az stifled a short burst of laughter. "Raven, I only use that level when I'm in my armour. I tend not to use it at other times for the simple reason that I'd get killed. As for the safety word, that's my personal one. Why should-?"

"Stupid. Foolish. Reckless and utterly arrogant. To think that you could match Lord Azaluhaiz in skill. What sheer-"

"Tara. Enough."

Aziz spoke with a quiet voice, calm, firm and authoritative, an ethereal quality to it. Tara locked eyes with him as she halted.

"Raven, I want you to meet the person who's going to teach you more about magic. I've told you a bit about the struggles that are coming, how I was sent to protect you. I was also sent to teach you. Obviously I have… exceeded my duties at some points. But there are some things I can't teach you about and that is magic. I can't wield it but Tara can, and she can teach you."

Raven tentatively reached out a hand in greeting but quickly retracted it as Tara gave a growl that caused the entire tower to tremble.

"_Tara_." Tara looked at him, a flicker of hurt on her face before she turned back to Raven. At the back of his mind, Aziz felt a pang of regret coming from his true self, Azaluhaiz.

It was perhaps not the best way but Tara knew well enough that if anything happened to Azaluhaiz, she would at least be there to carry on his work. Love was a hopelessly complicated concept, only getting more complex yet simpler as one got higher up the ladder of sapience.

"Tara, teach her about magic. I leave it you to determine to what extent. Raven, learn from her. Hopefully you'll both get along."

The last was said wryly, for Aziz knew anything _but_ friction between the two would occur. Both were more alike than they realised in their possessiveness towards the man in their life.

"You will address me as mistress. I expect only the best from you. Lack of effort is never an excuse. Whatever I tell you to do, you will do. Understood?"

Tara asserted her dominance, looking at this young female who dared to approach her intended mate. It did not matter if he was Imperial Ulthaj or not. No matter his persona or actions, he'd always loved her and she him. She would settle for nothing less than being his prime consort, first in the hierarchy of his beloved and no one else.

Raven's demonic side began to stir for the first time in days, expressing anger at this female who expressed so much interest in _her_ man with that gaze. Her eyes turned a pale shade of red as she stared at Tara, Raven unconsciously baring her fangs.

Tara gave Raven a condescending glare even as she beckoned for her to approach. The dynamic of their relationship was definitely not getting off on the right foot.

**WWW**

Dumiel sniffed the air, sensing the metallic taint of the industrial area combined with the harsh chemical smells emanating from behind him. Their scent was well concealed.

Contact with the other safe-houses had indicated that most of their brethren had made it off-world to the waiting shift-ship. However what was most disturbing was the news of Miria's sister, Devon and her Chevaliers.

They had accompanied several Corvinii immortals, vampires and lycans to Johannesburg in South Africa, in the hopes of splitting the attentions of the Ahriman Society and the Khagat Alchemists. For more than a week, no news of them had been received. This meant they'd either escaped without telling them or had been captured.

"We're near the warmaster now, aren't we, Dumiel?" Miria asked him, staring across the unfamiliar horizon of buildings. Their Corvinii vampire allies remained within the containers, waiting for the sun to set.

Miria's blue eyes looked out from the face of a sixteen year old girl. She was in reality at least three centuries old. Chiropteran queens entered states of deep hibernation after a period of several years of activity and Miria was nearing her own.

Dumiel had chosen to remain her Chevalier servant, though not linked by blood as her other Chevaliers were. He was her grandmother's Chevalier, her mother's and now hers. His existence was defined by his protection of her.

All of them were migrants who'd seen opportunity. When rumours of the Janthril Warmaster beings present on this world had spread, it had been their first choice. They'd thought it would be secure and safe. It had been so for six decades, just in the aftermath of this world's second world war.

Obviously, it hadn't lasted.

Like the humans they'd masqueraded as, they paid taxes, raised families, gone about their lives and grew their businesses, fulfilling their duties as citizens of whichever countries they lived in.

All that had changed when the waves of violence began to sweep the hidden world they inhabited.

"We're near him. If anyone can help save us and reverse this madness it's him" he said with confidence.

"_If not him, then who?"_

**WWW**

The minute the sun set they went in a convoy, unmarked vehicles moving swiftly along the expressway spread out just far enough that they could respond to an attack yet evade the attention of observers. Their destination was the Dalibor Academy.

Through tinted windows the ageless Chiropteran queen looked out. Dumiel rode a motorcycle behind the convoy, on guard for any suspicious followers.

Yet for all his advanced senses, Dumiel failed to detect the electronic whispers that flew before his eyes and through his body, drones of silicon and plastic the size of houseflies stealthily concealed in the crevasses of the jeeps.

**WWW**

"Ascanio, I trust that the Society is satisfied with my progress?" Cyrus asked inquisitively.

"Your magic has grown more potent. And yes, you are to be granted acclaim for your actions. After a fashion, anyway," Ascanio replied, his large frame relaxing back into the chair. The Bhagatur and Alyp around him eyed Joculare to the side, the madman giggling at some private joke.

"_They're going to die anyway,"_ Ascanio thought to himself as he observed the men before him. Cyrus Creed, now a Lord of the Second Inner Circle of Ahriman and his wild dog Joculare were notorious among the First Inner Circle and the Council.

Ascanio had been assigned a project that no other had been trusted with. To flush out the Ahriman Society's most powerful enemy, a hidden threat that Ahriman, Jorgumander and Gurenon had talked about. The man who was masquerading as 'Shafaq' of the Titans. A fitting name if he was truly who they said he was.

The Darkness before the Dawn.

To do that they had to let the Chiropteran queen and her associates lead them to him. Unnervingly, only this Chiropteran band remained on-planet. With the exception of this group, all of their intended quarry, known to be very indirectly associated with the Black Tiger or Shafaq as he was now called, had escaped.

It had totally mystified the Society, the efficacy with which their quarry had escaped them, often leaving no trace save several anti-matter bombs that had resulted in the annihilation of several powerful sorcerers. It turned out magic and anti-matter did not mix very well. For that matter, anti-matter didn't mix well with anything.

Ascanio had no wish to repeat such encounters. The losses to the Society in terms of manpower and the embarrassment in front of their allies had been unprecedented.

"Remember, I want them alive. Although you may kill the others if it becomes necessary, the queen must be brought in alive at all costs."

The third significant person in the room spoke. Celia Reyes was exquisitely beautiful, voluptuous and seductive in her business clothes. A hint of cinnamon tinged the air around her. However, it only belied her lethality and power.

An extremely powerful executive within the State Department, she carried herself with an aura of one accustomed to command. She was not in the least intimidated by any of the people around her. Her two bodyguards were no less intimidating than her, piercing eyes briefly fixing Ascanio.

Ascanio looked away, unable to hold the stare. He had witnessed many things as the expediter and personal silencer of Lord Imperial Derman Ugorj but these three individuals before him managed something that no one save the Lord Imperial had ever achieved.

They scared him. For that matter, they'd scared most of the Lords of the First Inner Circle by the force of their presence.

"Remember the deal you cut with the State Department and Pentagon. We require these… life-forms alive. At the very least the queen, though we'd prefer all of them alive. Can you guarantee that?"

"Of course." Ascanio nodded, observing the woman closely. She was confident and assured. The Society had incredible amounts of evidence that incriminated senior members of the US government, in fact, most governments worldwide. It wasn't too hard to find a crooked politician.

But this woman had approached the Lord Imperial and the Inner Council of the Ahriman Society, Shadow League and Assassins League with utter disregard for all parties and the material in their possession.

She'd emerged from behind sealed doors having achieved the full cooperation of all three societies and achieved the unthinkable, leaving Ras al Ghul and his elders agitated in the extreme, the Lord Imperial himself breaking into a rare display of anger after she'd left their presence.

What little intelligence they possessed on her was useless in trying to evaluate her. Her name was Celia Reyes, a Hispanic woman who'd come from an orphanage in Mexico City, an outstanding scholar and athlete who'd left an impression on all who'd encountered her.

After applying for and gaining scholarships from Yale, she'd gone on to read law as well as nanotechnology within four years, leading a seemingly charmed life before being poached by the State Department and rising rapidly within their ranks to become attaché to Amanda Waller, Director-in-Chief of the Joint Covert Operations Directorate.

She'd made herself so indispensable that when Amanda Waller had been placed in charge of the fledgling Cadmus Project, designed to counter metahuman threats to American interests, she'd come on board as the Vice-Director, second only to Amanda Waller.

**WWW**

Celia cast a contemptuous glace at Joculare. He was a disgusting specimen of a sentient being, a paranoid schizophrenic who'd been further warped by Cyrus Creed beyond irrationality. He was Creed's pet; a wild dog turned into a beast. A pale shadow of a man, his insanity had allowed Creed to manipulate him into serving his interests.

His exploits, especially Creed's penchant for racial supremacy, was a danger to the Society. Such things were not tolerated for the simple fact that they attracted the attention of society at large. They divided the society along racial lines and division was the last thing the Ahriman Society desired or wanted.

The Ahriman Society was a _secret_ society for certain reasons – their members knew the protocol for behaviour and maintained discipline. Enforcers like Ascanio did so at the behest of the Inner Circle and Council. Internecine warfare within the Society was strictly prohibited, for it could easily spill over and become public.

Cyrus Creed had used the resources to pursue his own racist agenda, turning against agents simply because of their skin colour, something the Society of Ahriman couldn't afford. It had been bad enough that he'd snubbed several elders of the League of Shadows for being Arab, Persian or Nubian.

Many of their key alliances could be compromised because of his actions. This would be rectified.

Celia knew well enough exactly how they were setting up Creed. Her father Azaluhaiz, or at least his mortal detachment, Aziz, was a man with a reputation. His attitude was not an eye for an eye. Rather his approach was best summed up in a statement Sao Feng had once made, apt to describe his approach.

"_Fuck an eye for an eye. If any man targeted my family and friends, I'd cripple him, gouge out both his eyes, string him up by the innards and slaughter his entire family."_

And Celia knew for a fact that Aziz had done much worse. Of course, it was motivated for his own and Raven's sake. Celia was just there just to grease the wheels of progress, as it were. Whatever happened next, she took responsibility for it. After all, what was her purpose but to be a vessel for the Janthril Grand Matriarch?

Cyrus Creed and Joculare were to be their sacrifices in drawing out her father. Given Jorgumander's hatred of him, he'd been all too willing to work against Aziz when given a free pass. Ahriman literally reeked of a Cha'Gukal but didn't yet know its part to play. Its time would come.

Khagat and Gurenon were intriguing possibilities. As far as anyone knew, Gurenon was a renegade High Lord of the Black Tiger Society. In actuality, he'd been serving Ghanima from the beginning, assigned by Azaluhaiz himself as her retainer and confidante. Gurenon was her mole in the society, her follower and one-time lover who remained loyal to her.

With Khagat, Celia foresaw interesting possibilities. Like Gurenon, Khagat exhibited a nobility and purity of essence unlike his 'parents', Ahriman and Jorgumander, who'd given off themselves to form him.

Khagat sought to align only with the strongest: those who would survive, who fulfilled his harsh philosophy. The Landscape of the End; those who fulfilled his vision of a paradise. Khagat sought only the strong and despised the weak.

But who exactly was the strongest was something yet to be known…

**WWW**

Steve threw down the controller in frustration. Once more Anya was proving to them who exactly was the King of Fighters. Idimmu sat down smoking a hookah, Shoah staring intently at the television as he watched Anya's dextrous fingers making short work of Steve.

Greg lifted dumbbells as he watched them, his ego bruised at his defeat by a young girl less than half his age at Street Fighter, King of Fighters and Need for Speed. The dogs passively lay around him, tired from the five mile run he'd put them through an hour before.

His spirits were lifted as his girlfriend called him from the kitchen, asking him to come in and put his knife skills to good use cutting onions and garlic. Clare found him a potent accessory as a boyfriend – he was a companion, bank account and relatively skilled chef rolled into one.

Iskandar sat back on the couch, nursing a cold beer. He'd been roughly ejected from the kitchen after getting in the way of Naima, Izusa and Clare who were engaged in a cooking frenzy, eager to celebrate the discovery that Naima was pregnant.

When Iskandar had called his mother-in-law over the phone, forgetting that it was 4 am in the morning in his home country, he'd been met with a thick silence followed by a devastating banshee's scream upon telling her.

It turned out that she was _very_ eager to have grandchildren. His own parents had taken a more reserved, dignified reaction, though his father had started to crack several rather dirty jokes about handcuffs and whips. Iskandar suspected his old man was wise to what he and Naima had gotten up to that one time they'd stayed in his old room.

Naima had an unnatural fondness for whips and chains that he was perfectly happy to indulge. After all, if he made sure _she_ was happy, she made sure _he_ was happy. Either way he benefited. It was a common misconception that married men didn't get much sex. On the contrary, he'd had sex till it was coming out of his ears.

He looked forward to the gathering tonight. It was a chance to relax among friends and family, to share the news with his closest friends. As well as to fulfil the promise he'd made with Damon.

Over a drunken session of mahjong he'd made a blood pact with Damon, slicing open their palms with a kitchen knife and pressing them together, the blood intermingling as they'd sworn to be the godfathers of the others children.

**WWW**

Aziz waited patiently for them, hidden in the shadows of the office building. He monitored them as they entered the basement car park one by one, tinted windows glinting in the light. Clad in a black leather jacket and face concealed by a mirrored visor, he observed, scanning for anyone who might have followed.

The office tower was heavily secured, home to several banks who'd rented the office space at relatively low prices. Honeycombed with tempered glass, titanium-reinforced concrete and hardened Kevlar in critical sections, it could withstand a sustained assault by the equivalent of an Israeli Defence Force battalion for several hours.

At the very least it could play host to the refugees until midnight when the Torrasque Ushtars could pick them up. They would also fetch the items he requested. Where once he'd maintained a high-tech inventory, he'd downgraded his technology to what was available to him. Technology like that tended to attract attention. Given the removal of a vast amount of the infrastructure of his bunker, it was no longer viable to keep them, lacking the capacity to maintain them as he did.

Watching as the last car moved into the garage, he made to move before he felt a blade across the front of his throat. His head was tugged back as a threatening voice whispered into his ear.

"Move and you die. You've been following us since the junction of 5th and Mercador. You're good… but you're only human."

"Dumiel. Sworn Chevalier of the Chiropteran Queen Sandira of Clan Meshun. The same clan that served under the Warmaster Azaluhaiz. You haven't changed at all, old friend. Paranoid as you ever were."

Dumiel backed away, morphing his arm from a blade back into its normal form. "Aziz?" he said, an echo of hope in his voice.

Az pulled off his helmet, meeting the gaze of his old comrade with a smile. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, Dumiel."

**WWW**

"We've tracked them to the Arad Financial Tower. It's hard to penetrate. Where will Joculare be going?" Ascanio asked.

Cyrus smiled disturbingly. "He has a more important assignment. He'll be attempting to draw the attention of Shafaq. This man the Lord Imperial fears so much. What can a single man do?"

"That is a question one should ask Ras. Perhaps you should ask him about Batman?"

Cyrus stopped smiling immediately at the mention of the Batman. Creed Pharma had suffered severe losses when Wayne Enterprises had brought them to court over several patents they'd violated, supported by documents and reports that were supposed to be sealed in secure vaults in Switzerland.

Surveillance videos had revealed the culprit in the form of grainy images of Batman breaking into the vault. The evidence had found its way to the police commissioner of Gotham, James Gordon, who was also a golfing buddy of Bruce Wayne.

Cyrus had met Bruce several times in a professional capacity and seen little beyond the façade of a powerful man who toyed with women, favouring Russians among the many lovers he kept. Yet all the decadence was but an act, and Cyrus knew it. Beneath was a savvy businessman worth several times his weight in gold.

"Ascanio. Take a group of Alyp and infiltrate the Arad Tower. Joculare will be taking the Bhagatur to attract some attention." Ascanio acknowledged it, expecting none of the Bhagatur to survive.

For all their vaunted strength, these new initiates were fanatics who been deemed unsuitable for mainstream work and reassigned to this task. They were expendable assets, unlike the Alyp, who undergone years of training and indoctrination.

"Lord Cyrus, a simple warning: the Lord Imperial told me long ago about this man. Perhaps it would be wise to not be so dismissive of a single man. After all, as Ras al Ghul has his Batman, so perhaps may you have your Shafaq. But Ras al Ghul never had to worry about his greatest nemesis killing him."

He left with the Alyp, going over the plans in his mind that would wipe out evidence of any involvement by Cyrus Creed with the Society. Ascanio knew very well the consequences to come, for Joculare was a wild dog about to be unleashed by Cyrus.

Was a hound truly responsible for its actions while unleashed… or did greater responsibility lie with its master for unleashing it, knowing of its behaviour?

**WWW**

Sao Feng watched Clare and Gregory at work on the barbeque, Clare skilfully putting her metahuman ability to control flames to culinary use. The rack of lamb was roasting in the oven, the pate was seared just right, the pumpkin-spinach-strawberry salad dripped with balsamic vinegar while the scent of roasted tomato couscous wafted through the house.

Upstairs his kids moved around like cape buffaloes, engaged in a game of blind man's bluff. Sao Feng did not wish to witness the aftermath. More than likely it would look like a twister had made its way through the room. Not that Aziz would mind.

It was a spacious townhouse along the coast that he used occasionally when he needed to escape or when holding gatherings for his friends. Gregory had been granted the keys and used it for several parties of his own as well as romantic interludes with Clare during the times he was in the USA, every few weeks or so.

Cyborg had decided to join them and had brought Sarah along, After making the introductions she'd been inducted into the kitchen brigade where the women were exchanging dirty stories and otherwise engaging in the profound intellectual exercise of 'girl-talk'.

Cyborg was currently trying (and failing) to defeat Gregory in a game of Tekken 6.

A sudden chill ran down his spine as he heard a rustling in the bushes. All of a sudden the dogs went berserk, barking ferociously at a corner of the garden. His old instincts, honed by years in the military, kicked in as Sao Feng made his way there.

Idimmu joined him, trying to quieten the dogs even as their racket increased. Sao Feng inspected the bushes.

The air shimmered before him. A giant of a man appeared. A punch sent him flying.

**WWW**

Anya was with the children when the entire house suddenly shook. The door burst open, wooden splinters flying as a man entered, ragged paint splotched across his face like a demented mask, hair askew and eyes bloodshot.

He lashed out at the nearest child, one of the twin boys. Faykan was sent flying like a rag doll; his head smashed against the concrete. Jacob threw himself against the man in a fury, seeking to avenge his brother. His sisters huddled in a corner, the eldest, Serina, using her body to shield them.

The sound of metal sliding on metal caused Joculare to freeze. He turned to see Anya pointing a pistol at him, hands shaking in fear. He stomped his foot and she fired at him. The bullet impacted, the metal point flattening as it drove against his steel-like skin.

It slid down ineffectually, Joculare grinning madly like a Cheshire cat. Lord Cyrus had seen fit to enhance him with skin as hard as Kevlar, bullets and blows as nothing but rain to him, courtesy of some of his magic.

"So which one is Anya?"

At the mention of her name, the other children glanced at her. Joculare followed their glance to the girl holding the pistol. Clicking his tongue, he approached her even as she emptied the clip at him.

For all her fear she was Az's adopted progeny and he'd trained her well, entrusting her with a pistol despite her age. But that meant little here. Joculare grabbed the firearm, twisted it out of her hand, just as she snapped a kick at his knee. He laughed. It ended abruptly as he slapped her, sending her sprawling.

"Poor little girl. All alone. No one to defend you. If only that man who survived my poison, the one who cradled you, or that Asian man. A worthy opponent who could _almost_ hold his own with me. What was his name?"

"Idimmu." A harsh voice sounded from behind him as Joculare was propelled through the wall by a kick to his back.

**WWW**

Sao Feng let loose blades of sonic energy from his hands, visible as arcs of yellow energy that crackled with power, each impact of his fist pummelling hardened flesh and bone. With wild abandon Iskandar cut loose, engaging three of the massive men at the same time.

Who were these men? They had no idea. One minute they were relaxing, the next they were fighting for their lives. He heard the sound of gunshots from within the house, just as Gregory ripped open a hidden panel in the wall that concealed a G36C rifle and several magazines of ammunition.

The attackers were all of similar size, Anglo-Saxon in appearance. One collapsed in a ball of flames as Clare cut loose with everything she had, shielding Naima. Cyborg grappled with another, before Greg slid in and kicked out the man's legs. Izusa stood beside the pregnant Naima, wielding a steak knife, for what little good it did.

In a frenzy of motion, Greg rammed the rifle into the man's mouth and pressed the trigger, emptying half a clip into his skull. The giant continued to move feebly before Gregory silenced him, slamming the butt of the rifle into his skull repeatedly.

Cyborg gazed in horror as a man was killed before his eyes. His attention was snatched back to the present as someone grabbed him from behind and threw him through the window, landing on top of him and grinding his head into the earth.

**WWW**

Iskandar slammed his forehead into the man's skull, cracking it open to reveal the bloody mixture of brain matter within. He felt the soft tissue of the eyes collapsing under the thrust of his fingers as he tugged upwards, feeling the hardened bone reinforced with foreign materials of incredible strength give way to his brutality.

Another attacker came behind him, punching him with enough force to crush the bones of any normal man. Iskandar simply shrugged it off before side kicking his attacker's torso, tearing through the flesh as the spine of his enemy shattered into fragments.

Sao Feng grabbed another and broke his neck before pulverizing his head underfoot. The final opponent he got into an armlock as a dark column of purple flame engulfed them both. A sudden burst of pure silence drowned out everything before the column dissipated. Only Sao Feng remained, the man's body reduced to ashes.

The final attacker died within moments, Iskandar incinerating his skull in his hands, his Hadou no Chikara burning like a star, the Satsui no Hadou overcoming him before he released himself from its grasp. He felt the darkness within rise in anger, the threat to his friends and his wife still present.

Sao Feng dashed upstairs, the townhouse shaking from the force of his passage. He slammed headfirst into an invisible wall of force. Behind it were his children, sadistically crucified to the walls, barbed spikes driven through their wrists, hands, ankles and feet.

Joculare held a sphere in his hand, a dimness that opposed the fluorescent lightning radiating from it. It sucked in the light around it, casting an effervescent gloom that seemed to bubble and froth. Anya was thrown across one shoulder, unconscious and tied up, crimson bands glittering on her hands and feet.

Idimmu threw a tornado kick, the powerful cybernetic limbs twisting from his hips as they slammed into the field around him. With a roar he threw another one, this time the field bending under the force of the blow.

With a look of concern Joculare made a flicking motion. Several large spikes attached to chains materialised out of nowhere, flying towards Idimmu. With a roar of pain Idimmu was chained to the floor, the spikes ramming themselves through muscle and bone as they dug into him. Idimmu struggled as his cybernetic legs feebly tried to rise, the spikes staking him to the floor. A sudden crunch echoed in the room as his backbone snapped and the roars turned to screams of agony.

"Amazing how they restored your eyes after I took them from you. They belong to me, little Asian man."

Joculare lanced out his fingers and gouged them out once more. Snapping his fingers, the women suddenly appeared in front of him. Izusa, Naima and Clare were bound by chains that burned into them, rotating around their limbs as they tore the skin from them.

With another snap Gregory appeared before him. With a single glance at the situation, Gregory paused for a split second before raising his rifle at Joculare. It transformed into a bouquet of pythons and cobras in his hands. Gregory dropped them, the snakes slithering towards the children, hunger in their reptilian eyes.

"Gregory Pereira. The self-named Wolfhound of my master's enemy. Shafaq is his name, isn't it? I've been observing you and your friends-" He narrowly dodged a punch aimed at his face.

"Learn your place, half-breed," he spat. "It disgusts me to think that a woman of pure European blood could think to lay with a filthy brown-skinned piece of shit generations ago, to give rise to you. How about…"

Gregory collapsed to the floor in a tangle of limbs as his weight spontaneously increased, tendrils of darkness surrounding him. They slowly tightened around him, before coming together with a single snap.

The crunch and grind of bones that resonated from him was drowned out only by the pained scream of pure agony and horror as Greg felt the bones of his foot, ankle, shin and thigh split in multiple directions at once, breaking beyond the capacity to heal. Then he felt his collarbone give way as it broke, separating within his body. His nano-glands, the only one of his implants, attempted to pump out painkillers, only to be overwhelmed.

Clare could only look on in horror as she saw her boyfriend tortured. Tendrils crept up around her fingers without her notice. She only realised her peril just as they tightened, breaking her hands and ripping her fingers from their sockets.

Then the tendrils began to creep towards Naima…

**WWW**

With a mighty crash the barrier gave way as Iskandar slammed into Joculare. Sao Feng tore the snakes apart, attempting to free his children from their crucified position on the wall.

Joculare could only giggle as he felt his bones break, only to reform once more. "Your wife is pregnant. An abomination. Hybrids like you shouldn't exist. Weak and corrupt. Let me destroy that foetus within her "

Iskandar attempted to rip Anya from his grip before a viselike grip caught him around his throat and began to squeeze. Gagging, he swiped the air in front of him, attempting to get at Joculare.

"Anastasiya Iosifovna Khruschev, or Anya. Adopted daughter of Sophia Perennis Mendes of Mendes Defence Decisions. Also known to be closely connected with the Siberian Ghost and the Wendigo of Kosovo. His adopted daughter. Such a pretty little thing. Tell your master or friend, whoever he is, that Cyrus Creed desires to see him. Tell him the Ahriman Society has an agenda with him and his Raven Queen."

Sao Feng made a lunge at him. Joculare dodged, grinning. "Yun Sao Feng. The Chinese Jew. The most dangerous of all the people in this room. Help Shafaq again and your family will pay. That is a promise. Now, call him. Tell him to come here."

Sao Feng rammed his knee into Joculare with extreme force, doubling the man over before slamming the point of his elbow down on his neck. As the hit collided, his skin crackled. Sao Feng found himself clutching his head as lightning arced across his body.

"Inadvisable. I take it you _don't _wish to save your family. Very well. They'll make excellent drinks for some friends of mine. Vampires. They always love the blood of children – when they can get them, of course. Or you can simply tell me where he lives so that I may approach him directly."

With a gleam in his eye, Sao Feng struggled to rise, staggering against the torrents of pain that inundated him. His lips cracked as he spoke.

"I… I'll tell you."

Joculare raised an eyebrow. Just to be safe, he snapped his fingers and Sao Feng screamed as both his ankles broke. He collapsed to the floor, staring up at Joculare.

"Now, you'll tell me where he is, won't you?"

"Behind you."

**WWW**

Joculare whirled around, only to meet Cyborg pointing his cannon straight at him. "Give it up, motherfucker. The Titans and police are on their way here now. Your buddies are all dead or unconscious. I don't know what you are but you know who _I_ am. Now get down on the ground, release everyone and _maybe_ I won't beat you up. Drop that sphere. _**Now!"**_

Joculare lost his grin as he knelt down, his hands sinking to his feet. In a blur of motion, he dropped the sphere and pulled out a dagger, stabbing it into Cyborg's human face as he sidestepped and tripped him.

With magically driven strength he ripped out the cybernetic arm while kicking him towards the sphere. The sphere levitated, a ray of light lancing from it into Cyborg's torso as it pierced his armour, slicing cleanly through one of his biomechanical heart's chambers.

Joculare didn't understand the sphere very well but he understood its effects. The woman, Celia Reyes, had given the sphere to Cyrus Creed, saying it would be needed for his task and would be of great aid. Joculare had used it to devastating effect and appreciated it.

As he turned on his heel he suddenly felt an enormous ripple of force around him as the sphere spontaneously projected a force field around him. He heard the gasps from the men on the floor as Eko and Tyu literally ripped through the magical tide that suddenly surrounded them.

Their bodies strained against the field, their eyes glowing a vicious red as they stared at the scene before them.

Gripping the orb once more, he pointed it at Eko and Tyu, willing it to stop them in their tracks. It responded by freezing them into place, each as still as a statue.

**WWW**

Eko and Tyu were thousands of years old, able to kill Kryptonians of the level of Kal-El with ease by virtue of their strength alone. They'd survived the destruction of entire worlds and dimensions, in Tyu's case surviving immersion in a quantum singularity, more commonly called a black hole. They were magi of the highest order, capable of 'true magic': miracles that defied all the known laws of science and sorcery.

The fact that Joculare wielded an artefact capable of stopping them wasn't lost on them or on Anya as she was slapped awake by Joculare. She stared at the scene around her, trying to stop from vomiting. Idimmu lay whimpering on the floor, spikes staking him to the wood. Sao Feng had been rendered catatonic, the rest strung up in a grotesque caricature of a party.

Her dogs had been leashed up, howling and barking as they struggled against the chains that bound them to the wall. All of them were in various states of injury, her dog Darky having its ears and tail amputated in a bloody mess as it struggled to stand, woozy from blood loss and pain.

The two ancient beings who were her guardians were frozen in place, paint sprayed onto their faces in colourful tattoos. Profanities were scrawled across the wall in the blood of her friends and family, Cyborg barely able to move as his systems struggled to keep him alive.

"Wakey wakey, little girl. I need your help to send your father a message. You'll never be rescued from where you're going. Lord Cyrus is going to teach your father a lesson he'll always regret."

"When my father arrives, he's going to kill you." With a defiant glare, she spat at Joculare's face. Joculare casually wiped the spit off his face as he brought the dagger up and set to work. He made sure the sphere recorded everything and made sure everyone watched. He didn't have much time left.

He smiled joyfully as Anya began to scream…

**WWW**

Aziz flung himself through the hole in the wall, boots pounding the floor as he ran up the stairs through the broken house. Raven, Terra and BB followed behind him. The stench of blood reached him as he threw open the door to the attic. The scene that met him was one of horror.

As the others reached him, Raven gave one look and rushed to release the children, suppressing the feeling of horror, rage and most disturbingly, pleasure as the demon within rose. Terra went to unravel the women from their chains. BB stared at Idimmu writhing feebly in pain, unable to tear himself away, before Az sharply barked at him to call for an ambulance.

A sphere levitated in the centre of the room, glowing dimly with lines of darkness on its shell. Tyu and Eko stood frozen, unable to move but for their eyes which whipped from side to side, roiling with darkness within.

Aziz reached out to the sphere and grabbed it. It began to tremble before its outer shell cracked open and the energy, inky black and freezing to the touch, flowed like smokeless flame up his arm. It poured the memories and experiences of everyone who'd been present into him, filling his mind with the full magnitude and scope of all that had occurred.

He applied more pressure to it, feeling it tremble and quake in his grasp. Using what knowledge he had, he recited the ancient words that burned his throat as they escaped his mouth. Words that caused his ears to burn, ancient power beyond magic that acted just like it.

A sudden shriek startled everyone as the orb quavered before tearing free from his hands and flying out the window. Slowly falling to his knees, Aziz shook as he channelled the energy through him, bargaining with Azaluhaiz, with the _other _within to aid him in restoring the others.

"_Help them. Heal them."_

"_Why should I? You always choose to fight me, your true self. And I allow it. I could devour you in an instant, but why? Why do I tolerate you? You have yet to realise your actuality. You have yet to reconcile your purpose with your ego."_

"_Please. This is not the time. Anya…"_

"_Is still alive. We all know that. I feel your rage, Aziz. I feel it. Do not misunderstand me. I love her as much as you do, but I see the bigger picture. This is a threat to you. A message. If I heal them, convert this energy, there will be a price for you to pay. When the time comes, 1 will exact my pound of flesh from you."_

"_I will pay any price to protect them. I've… we've lost too much."_

"_I know. But we are bound by destiny that you have fought and delayed for too long until fate became immutable. You delayed facing the Ulthaj Nightmare. I delayed too long where I should have done the right thing. In the end it is our fault, and ours alone. I know what you plan to do with Anya after this. Proceed as you will. But remember that we both will pay a price."_

**WWW**

Within minutes, the pain faded. Idimmu leaned against the wall. The others had been extricated from the wall, their wounds closing quickly and bones re-setting. But no one could or would meet Aziz's eyes. Not even Eko or Tyu. Sao Feng rocked his children to sleep, their memories removed by the magic of Eko.

By tomorrow they would be on flight out of the country on unmarked tickets with Tyu back to Singapore, where they could be protected.

Baleful like a demon, Aziz's eyes sparked with wrath as he viewed the video, watched as Joculare used a steak knife to saw off Anya's nose, ears and thumbs. They lay within the fridge now, frozen solid in blocks of ice. Aziz forced himself to watch every single frame, recording every single detail for future reference. He forced himself to listen to the gristle and grinding of teeth, as Joculare licked the blood of the knife slowly.

Had God himself dared to look into the face of Aziz, he would have quaked in fear.

**WWW**

In the basement of a skyscraper, Anya stared through a haze pf pain at her tormentor. Blood and mucous dripped from what remained of her face, the splatter as the fluids hit the concrete floor the only sound.

"Joculare, I told you to bring her to me unharmed," Cyrus said disdainfully, looking at the girl's ruined face. She could have been a beauty when older but now any chance of that was gone. Joculare had seen to that with the addition of sulphuric acid to her face.

"No Lord Cyrus. I distinctly remember saying alive, but nothing about unharmed. She is in a condition that suits your purposes, isn't she?"

Cyrus chose not to grace Joculare with a reply. A useful tool, but nothing more than a wild dog. His wild dog.

By completing this mission personally, his status would rise in the Society and he would gain further acclaim, finally able to enter the First Inner Circle and eventually, the Council. The orb that Celia Reyes had given him floated around him, following his every move.

A powerful weapon no doubt, but why had she given it to him? She'd told him it was a Project Cadmus trinket but he knew it was much more. Using his magics he had probed it and found the ingredients for a greater spell within it. It needed one more ingredient to trigger something, a process that was beyond his understanding of magic. Interesting, but not entirely within his realm of understanding.

"Ascanio, why are you leaving?" Cyrus turned to look at the enforcer of the Lord Imperial. He seemed oddly agitated, disturbed even. It was unusual behaviour in a man known to be absolutely calm even when facing the Justice League or Vandal Savage.

"Urgent business calls me back to headquarters, Cyrus. My own mission failed, though we did get some blood samples. I wish you the best luck for your mission."

It had not only failed, it had been an utter disaster. An entire platoon slaughtered and Ascanio escaping by the skin of his teeth from a man who'd been able to transform his arms into blades and move faster than the eye could see.

Cyrus replied with laughter. "He's only one man. What can one man do?"

As Ascanio closed the lift doors, he gave his answer.

"He can kill you."

**WWW**

As Ascanio's car entered the highway, heading for the airport, he looked back to see the lights of the skyscraper, the headquarters of Creed Pharmaceuticals, suffer a power failure. The faster he got out, the better.

Ascanio had done some of his own digging and found out who exactly was the enemy the Lord Imperial was trying to draw out. The answer had intrigued him. It was a living legend he had idolised as a child. The same man who had conquered the Russian Mafia groups and tamed the cartels of South America in the past two years alone.

It was the same man who'd brought down the 'untouchable' Calabrian 'Ndrangheta cartel and assassinated the entire Giuffrè family at the funeral of their patriarch, castrating and amputating their operations in Europe and across North Africa.

Cyrus's wild dog had mutilated the daughter of the world's most dangerous man. You almost had to feel sorry for him.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**An Era Ends Part 2**

_All things in this world are impermanent. They have the nature to rise and pass away. To be in harmony with this truth brings true happiness. That is a Buddhist chant which holds a great amount of truth. _

_Life is impermanent. Sometimes even the values which you hold dear are impermanent. They change. Sometimes you're forced to do things that go against your deepest moral code and somewhere within you a 'darkness' smiles._

-excerpt from Abridged Thoughts of Historical Personages, attributed to Gregory Pereira

"_Whether the painting is worth loving or not, it's not something that a painter chooses, nor something that the painting chooses._

_-The Sage Eiji_

_A/N: This is the last chapter of the background as I'm now starting work on the other arcs. The past two years writing this and your feedback have more or less allowed me to plan the next few arcs without the problems that plagued this one. The OC had an important part to play in the beginning, but he'll be back in the supporting as planned, because this story is essentially about Raven, the silent, beautiful queen of the darkness._

_Past few chapters are not to the quality that I desire but I think I need to address the story and avoid plot holes as well as pave the way for the next arc which will more or less draw on this entire background. Next arc is EOD: Starfire's Farewell.  
_

**WWW**

Raven looked at Beast Boy and Terra, their faces tense. Cyborg was currently in hospital undergoing emergency surgery as they tried to replace his heart. If not for the timely arrival of Raven, Cyborg would have died.

Whatever weapon it was that Joculare had used, it had pierced through his armour like a bullet through paper, lancing through his heart chambers and barely missing his spinal cord. Cyborg would survive, but it had been close. He was currently in the hospital where his father prepared a replacement heart for him. It would take a week of experimental stem cell therapy before he got on his legs again.

The others were currently in hospital recovering, Greg and Idimmu in the worst shape possible. While their bones had been set, the magic doing its work, Idimmu and Greg were closer to Anya than the rest.

Her torture as well as the injuries to their girlfriends had left them nearly psychotic with rage, Idimmu having to be restrained by the hospital staff while Greg was doped up to his eyes on powerful sedatives. The physical wounds would heal but the psychological aspect was a different matter.

They were recovering swiftly, that was true. As usual their mystery man had done _something_ with the orb before it had flown off, the rapid healing of all the victims partly due to whatever he'd accomplished. It was his behaviour which disturbed them now.

The Titans now knew that Anya was his adopted daughter. Within the first few seconds of watching the video Joculare had left them, all of them had left the room. Az had stayed, staring at the screen with a ferocity that frightened them.

Raven had tried to reach out to him but in a first, he'd shrugged off her touch, his body trembling with suppressed rage. It was only now that Raven was beginning to warm to other people, able to reach out and touch them after disengaging from the intimacies of human contact among friends and family.

So when he'd rejected her, she'd begun to understand how she'd affected her friends through her own actions, withdrawing into herself in the past.

**WWW**

Damon and Casimir sat outside the operating theatre waiting for their friends. They'd rushed over to the hospital as soon as he'd heard. Briefly, Sao Feng told him the entire story, how everything had occurred, including Anya's kidnapping.

He went to check in on Cyborg, whose large metal bulk stood inclined against a surgical tray adapted for the purpose. A hiss of gas escaped biomechanical lungs, while his blood, an artificial white substitute, flowed through various tubes and hoses connected to him. His condition was critical but stable. The next few hours, as his new heart was implanted, would be crucial.

"So this was what Eko was talking about - the repercussions of getting too close to him," commented Casimir, staring at the comatose Cyborg. A middle-aged man dressed in a business suit waited by his bedside, chin touching his chest in sleep. Victor's father, if anyone was going by resemblance.

They left to check on the others, Eko and Tyu subtly accelerating their healing. Too obvious a use of their magic would draw more attention, which was the last thing they wanted, even if it was to help their friends.

They'd drawn too much attention already.

**WWW**

Terra glanced at the despondent Beast Boy. The look in Az's eyes scared her on a primal level, for it reminded her of Deathstroke. They were the eyes of a killer; cold-blooded and vicious. The only difference between the two was the coiled anguish that lay within the eyes of the other.

"Terra."

BB interrupted her pondering, back hunched and eyes downcast as he looked at the floor.

"How can… how could _anyone_ do that? She's just a little girl. She's just… my god Terra. How can people be so _evil_? How could they do this simply to get at him? How can they do this to _children? _If I'd been there with Cyborg, maybe… and now he might die!"

A dry sob escaped his mouth as he breathed in, running his hand through his hair. She went up to him and lay her hand across the back of his neck, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder as she stood in front of him.

"Should we call Dick?" Gar asked, looking up at her. For a moment, the scene that had greeted them at the house flashed through her mind. She hesitated, banishing it from her immediate awareness.

"No. When I was travelling the world as a freelance vigilante, after that incident where Deathstroke took over the city with my help, I saw a lot of things. When I stopped the volcano from erupting beneath Jump, I became stone. I was in Limbo. I… it's like a near-death, experience actually. The world isn't black and white like Robin thinks. Only 'heroes' like Batman and Superman deal with moral absolutes, worrying about their use of power, with drawing a line. Sometimes, you have no choice _but_ to kill people. The Titans could never do that. After all, we're all just teenagers, aren't we? Besides, they can't be contacted, wherever they are now. I tried."

"But… it's wrong. We can't kill him. He's-"

"Joculare. He kills _children. _He's killed innocents for fun. He carved out a young girl's face and scarred her for life. In what other country besides the US does this happen? Not in my home. Not in most of Europe. This is why I don't want to be a superhero, Gar! How can I live with this moral ambiguity? This darkness and hypocrisy all my life? You let people rot in prison yet you never kill them?"

She stepped back from him, looking at him, realising that, though she loved him, Garfield Logan was still so naïve in many ways. Her voice rose, firm but soft enough to prevent people from listening.

"Garfield… ever since you came back into my life I live every day thinking how you could die! So many criminals you face could kill you in an instant. This isn't a normal life we lead and we're not normal people! "

Terra turned to look at the city lights across the bay.

"I just want to be like everyone else. I want to go to university and get a job. Lead a quiet life. Maybe raise a family with you. But the life of a Titan… the life of a hero requires more sacrifice than I'm willing to give. It's selfish, I know, but I don't want to be part of this. After everything I've seen, after this thing with Joculare, I've seen too much darkness. I want to live in the light."

She stepped away from him. "This is the last time I'm helping the Titans. I'm doing this for Cyborg and those kids. After this I'm leaving the country. I'm going back to Europe, back to Markovia - to my family. Away from everything, from all this darkness. But I'd like you to join me… if you're willing."

She turned and left, heading for the garage, towards the T-Mobile.

**WWW**

Raven looked into Az's room where she found a veritable arsenal laid out. He'd adjusted his armour, lining the inside with a malleable plastic material, while wearing another layer of armour below it. Boxes of ammunition marked with 'FMJ' and 'Incendiary' lay scattered all over the floor, next to disassembled rifles, several throwing knives, Uzis and a particularly large pistol, along with assorted military orthodox and digital camouflage fabrics.

He racked the bolt of a large rifle which she could disturbingly identify as a HK416 custom modified for close quarters combat. How could she even know that? As for the knives, she could identify a KA-BAR, corvo, kukri, Fairbairn-Sykes, smatchet and Kampfmasser 2000, knives she'd never seen nor touched in her life and even brass knuckles and a few machetes of varying design.

"What's all this for?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

He didn't answer and simply opened a panel in the back of his armour, using a screwdriver and tools liberated from Cyborg's own kit to make adjustments to his suit. A fizzling, crackling sound emanated from it as a pale golden shimmer formed like a shell over the skin of it before disappearing.

"Answer me Az. What's all of this-?"

"You know that. I suggest that if you do not want to be caught at the scene of a possible multiple homicide, you stay clear of Creed Pharmaceuticals corporate headquarters in Nexon Towers." He spoke in a voice that sent shivers up and down her spine.

"If you do this… Titans don't kill, Aziz. Besides, I'm coming. Joculare's there, isn't he?"

"What if he is?"

"Then I'll call the police like we usually do before we go to get him. We can-" she began, but he cut her off.

"Where did you get this evidence? Where's the data to back it up? How do we show their involvement? If I grant you access to any of my databases or informants, to allow them to be exposed, who knows what could happen to them? To their families? To _you_? Creed Pharmaceutical lawyers would block any warrant before it even got through and within a week Cyrus Creed and his cronies would be safely away in Brazil, beyond the reach of the law. On top of that, he's got links with the Bush family. He'd be out within a day."

"But-"

"What proof do I have that he's there? A voice in my head. Would a judge believe that, coming from a known vigilante whom they tolerated simply because I could do the things they couldn't do? From a guy who claims to be an extradimensional entity from a race called the Ulthaj? That this is just one of my manifest forms? They barely even believe you're a half-demon, Raven! Any case you bring against them wouldn't stand. All the while, those _monsters, _those _fucking bak'loths_ would remain free!"

He snarled the last one out in a rare outburst of anger that dissipated just as quickly beneath ice grey orbs. Raven reached out to him but he flinched away slightly, shrugging her hand off his shoulder.

"Follow me if you want. But it's a trap they've set for me. So that's what I'll do. And I'm going to show them _why_ they don't fuck with me. I'm going to make my own justice."

"No chance in hell you're going like this, Az. No chance we're letting you become a murderer." Beast Boy's voice rang out from behind. Az and Raven turned their heads to see BB leaning against the wall, eyes fixed on them.

"I want in on revenge for Cyborg. I don't think you're going to be going alone. Rather selfish on your part, and I know you're not a selfish guy. So think about it this way – we're all going after Joculare, plus we're tagging along to make sure you don't do something stupid that could land you in trouble, like murder. So we kill two birds with a stone and everyone's happy."

Aziz fixed him with a smile as he replied. Turning his attention back to his weapons, he loaded up his arsenal, stuffing several box and drum magazines of ammunition into a harness along with smoke grenades, concussion, flash-bang, high-explosive and fragmentation.

He hefted a small capsule, tossing it up and down in his hand before throwing it to Beast Boy. "Yo Beast Man, want to try that out? Just put your finger on the trigger my nigger. It's harmless. You'll be amazed at what it does."

Raven and Beast Boy should have been more cautious at the sudden change in phrase. Az rarely if ever spoke in contractions or slang, using grammatically perfect English. So when Beast Boy pressed it, the last thing he expected was to be hit by a noxious cloud of gas. He was out in seconds, his prone form on the floor.

Raven was next, though her landing was gentler. Az caught her, then slung both of them over his shoulders and carried them to the living room. Placing their prone forms on the couch, he stared at Raven for a moment before walking out. He was going to do things his way, in a language that the men who'd threatened his loved ones understood very well.

Violence.

"_Good. Very good, Aziz. You carve your own path now. Perhaps we might reach agreement. Of course, Raven's safety is assured, as are all the females of our harem,"_ spoke a voice from within.

**WWW**

Dumiel whistled cheerfully as he crouched over the laptop, tapping away rapidly at the keys. Among the many mistresses he'd had over the years, one of his more consistent flings was with computer systems. He loved the linearity and logic of it, so much less complicated than real life.

He'd cracked into the power company's network and deprived the corporate towers in Jump of their supply, as well as sabotaging a transformer along the way. He'd had to crack his way through several layers of security to identify the most likely places where they kept the hostage.

The most likely location was a restricted lab nestled in the Rocky Mountains, 4 hours east by plane. It was a biological research facility, isolated in an area that was easy to control in the event of a crisis. Surprisingly, there were several links to a high level federal government project called Cadmus.

Dumiel couldn't very well access those from his current terminal for the simple fact that to totally prevent it from being hacked, they'd seemingly isolated the network from the Internet. It was for all intents and purposes hack-proof unless one physically entered a Cadmus-related facility and accessed the network from there.

Tapping away, he sent the floor plans to a Hotmail account where Az could access it.

**WWW**

The Twelve Brothers in Silk, as they termed themselves, were reputable masters of martial arts, martial assassins of renown and no small fame, each of them nearly a match for the famed Lady Shiva in terms of prowess.

Sandra Wu-San, or Lady Shiva as she preferred to be known, was _the_ premiere martial arts assassin, a known killer of man and beast. She'd killed dozens, if not hundreds of masters, slaughtering those who claimed expertise and mastery in their respective arts. She was also one of the few whom Batman couldn't beat in unarmed combat, besides the Bronze Tiger and David Cain.

David Cain was one of the world's premier assassins, taking out some of the most famous and powerful people on the planet, no matter how seemingly impossible the task. He was one of the people who'd trained the young Bruce Wayne with the skills that he used as Batman although Bruce had, naturally, never used the murder techniques Cain demonstrated.

Martial arts were just one of _many_ tools in his repertoire of death. Exceptionally meticulous, Cain's success could be partially attributed to his painstaking preparation, always planning far ahead for any contingency.

Constantine Drakon was a near-mythical Greek assassin noted for matching and perhaps even exceeding Lady Shiva in mastery of the martial arts, though like David Cain, they were just one among many weapons in his arsenal.

Each of them had reputations as master assassins and had gathered together for a single purpose - to kill the legendary Siberian Ghost. It wasn't merely that the money was good. It was that the money was _insanely_ good. And for that amount of money, to take down a myth of the assassin's world was no small matter.

**WWW**

David met Shiva's glance and smiled, already thinking about little Cassandra back home. The "One who was All", the perfect assassin, his heir and child. Born of the perfect fusion of two killers; himself and Lady Shiva, she was doing extremely well.

She'd been born as a result of Lady Shiva training under him. In return for accepting his training, she'd been required to carry his heir to term before going on her way. As far as Shiva was concerned, while she may have been her daughter, she had no relationship with her to speak of, aside from giving birth to her.

"So Shiva, how's life?" he asked, a grin on his face. Shiva replied with a sour look.

"Do you wish to indulge in useless small talk while waiting for our mysterious opponent?"

"Perhaps. I would think that you'd ask about-"

"Cassandra? Under your care she'll turn out to be a worthy heir to us both. You're the infamous David Cain after all. Nothing else needs to be said."

There was a pause before she asked.

"So, how is she doing?"

David smirked. He expected nothing less from a mother. Albeit a mother who'd only seen her daughter intermittently since she was born. In many ways she was so predictable yet deadly. Her own woman, it was that independent strength that attracted him more than anything else.

"She's doing well. I left her with the Ben Turner and Alpha in Vancouver. I've commissioned Natas for a year to train her as well."

"Hm. So what's your plan to kill this legend? Our 'Siberian Ghost'? Our Ghost Wolf? Ascanio was scared out of his wits. I simply had to look in his eyes. Have you ever met him for that matter? Given who you are, one needn't be surprised if you did."

David paused for a moment before answering. "Every time I'm tasked to kill a person, I do it professionally, without hesitation or mercy. You're aware of that, Shiva. Granted, I had to learn it from somewhere. I'm sure you remember Natas? One of your old teachers. Both of us shared the same master at one point."

"The Ghost Wolf. One of many names," intoned Shiva. "So… your assessment of him?"

"Perhaps the only man besides Bruce Wayne that I respect and the one person I fear. He wasn't deserving of his reputation for nothing. He was a brilliant killer, a methodical, meticulous and ruthless man who let nothing stand in his way. If he had to kill a few innocent people to attain his goal, so be it. I knew him only as Johan. Some say he was German, some say Turkish. I was never really sure. But he scared me. The fact that Cyrus Creed kidnapped his daughter to draw him out, attacked presumably close friends in the process and then had her mutilated by a madman doesn't bode well for us."

"So what's the plan?" Shiva asked.

"He wasn't prone to anger and devious as the Devil himself. The man I knew had ice for blood. He'd observe, analyse and evaluate his prey, mobilise his resources and strike as efficiently and stealthily as possible. He'd trick and trap his victims, using psychological warfare to play with them. I'd say that he'd sneak behind, bypass us and-"

At this point the basement level they were in shook as alarms went off throughout the entire facility. David merely grinned. "Well… I guess Johan can be direct sometimes."

**WWW**

Most of the civilian research staff were in the process of moving to more secure bunkers deeper in the Mojave desert to continue the work of Project Cadmus through the use of a company linked to Creed Pharmaceuticals but independent of it. The facility was being converted into a military proving ground.

However, one wondered whether such a conversion required dozens of ZT-9 combat bots and Fedayeen Security Standard Model 11 androids to defend what was now essentially a firing range for testing weapons platforms. In a barrage of bullets, they were shut down from a distance by a hidden sniper, the exhaust of the missiles indicating his position.

The robots tracked the sound of the shots, seeking to triangulate the position of the hidden enemy. Out of the dark sky a figure leapt from a hidden vehicle, crashing into the ground with an audible crack. He was larger than most humans, or so it seemed as his armour bulged outwards.

He made a dash for an electrified fence, sprinting over the grit and sand of the desert surface. He was over the minefield in moments, the shrapnel bouncing ineffectually off shields as he dodged and zigzagged around the emplacements, a shimmer of gold the only indication of the energy shielding.

He hit the first perimeter fence, five metres high and electrified to the lethal megavolt range. Without pause he slammed through it by virtue of momentum and speed, before raising a rifle and firing in rapid bursts at the few human guards in the area. More to force them to keep their heads down than anything else.

In rapid succession the guards went out, blunt force trauma to their bodies or surgical pressure point strikes incapacitating them. Reloading his magazine, he went to work on the androids, ripping through them with terrifying precision, grenades and bullets tearing up their metal bodies.

Having soon exhausted the ammunition for his assault rifle he used it as a club, sprinting through the base as they attempted to encircle him. He disappeared from view, the thermoptic camouflage concealing him in the visual and infrared frequencies. Whispering into a radio, he sent a coded message that activated Sky Blue.

The androids reacted to his sudden disappearance by switching to acoustics and sonar, attempting to track their attacker. By the time they detected him, it was too late. The jetbike swept through the base, strafing the hapless androids like the Grim Reaper.

**WWW**

Joculare blinked as the lights went out. The sound of explosions continued to rock the facility as he stared at the terror-filled eyes in the glass box. He tapped the glass and watched her flinch.

"Why so scared, little girl? It seems your father is coming to rescue you. Of course, whether he can get here before the air in that little place runs out, you bleeding to death or me deciding to kill you makes it all the more interesting." He grinned widely and twirled a dagger in front of her eyes, watching them widen in abject terror. The girl was broken mentally already, barely whimpering and calling out a single name.

He liked making others suffer. It gave him a pleasure knowing that he made a difference in people's lives. Just look at the woman he'd nearly killed and the pulp within her he'd nearly deprived of life. The Asian man whose eyes he'd removed. The infants whose throats he slit in the hospital. The nurses he'd killed. He'd granted them a gift unlike any other in their lives: the gift of pain and despair.

Life had no existence or meaning. All was destined for oblivion either way. Once he'd been lost and wandering, aimless and without purpose, 'til he'd come across the vampire covens. He'd taken to stalking them, his chemically enhanced strength, toxic blood, superhuman luck and chemistry skills enough to grant him patronage by a coven affiliated with the Ahriman Society.

Then he'd met Lord Creed, a man who could appreciate his talents, had given him purpose and a mission. The man who'd granted him the gifts of a body resistant to injury and strong beyond compare. A man whose vision was something Joculare could contribute to through his gifts.

Lord Cyrus desired power. He dreamt of it, sought after it and courted it as a man wooed a woman. To what end Joculare didn't know, but the promise of his master that he required a man of Joculare's calibre to aid him was enough of a purpose.

Of course, what was he to do when his purpose was fulfilled?

**WWW**

Az examined the door. Steel-encased depleted uranium at least 20 inches thick, the blast door was the last obstacle in his path. The robots had been a problem, though the humans were alive and breathing. The guards were simply doing their job, nothing more. That they happened to be associated with a man like Cyrus was coincidental and the only thing that had saved their lives. They didn't deserve death.

He doubled over momentarily, pulling off his mask as he retched, vomiting the contents of his stomach out. He noticed blood and pieces of his stomach lining among the bile. He'd totalled his shielded armour, using the plastic explosives in between that and his Emem armour to blast through several walls to get to the bunker, as well as detonating them when the androids had attempted to overwhelm him.

He shifted his consciousness momentarily, feeling the poisons as they flowed through his system, his heart hammering like a war drum as toxins seeped into the cells. He tried counteracting them, only to succeed in stalling them for a while.

He'd been careless and tripped a wire, sustaining several puncture wounds from multiple syringes filled with all manner of hallucinogenic substances, toxins and viruses. Then he'd had the unfortunate accident of falling into a pit inhabited by a Komodo dragon whose neck he'd broken. In return it had bitten through his suit and several varieties of microbes and viruses were circulating through his body, poisoning his blood and causing septicaemia.

He checked his remote, noting that Sky Blue had exhausted all its expendable munitions. Even with its lasers he estimated it would require upwards of two hours to breach this blast door. Which left him with one option.

He recalled Sky Blue, popping the AI cube from its port as he tapped the instructions in. Beeping in affirmation, the jetbike streaked away into the night sky, gaining altitude before turning and accelerating as it activated its scramjet.

Crouched down behind a rock, Aziz felt the shock wave of the explosion as the jetbike slammed into the door. He looked up and noticed the ragged tear ripped through the door, the layers of steel and depleted uranium peeled back by the force of the explosion. Of the jetbike nothing but twisted metal remained.

Staggering forward he straightened as he pulled his other assault rifle from his back, loading it. He checked his pistols and blades, his sabre-staff and ninjaken sheathed at the hip, daggers tucked into his boots.

He cursed beneath his breath as more Zeta combat robots poured from hidden chambers behind the door. To get to where Anya was held was going to be more of a challenge than he reckoned.

**WWW**

Az rapidly dodged the first round, before realising he was pinned down by the fire of the machine gun. He estimated the calibre to be at 12.7mm: more than enough to breach the current suit he was wearing. The last thing he'd expected was to confront David Cain and Constantine Drakon.

"You've grown weak, Johan!" shouted Cain, as he hid behind cover, the sentry turrets tracking any movement in the room. To be honest David wasn't surprised the man he knew as Johan had survived the initial onslaught. He was as tough as a cockroach and sly as a fox. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd attracted the attention of the worst kind of beast.

Drakon was surprised at the man's speed. He'd heard of the Ghost Wolf but never expected a man who was supposedly over 50 years old to be so spry. Suddenly he felt a slight wind, a change in pressure as something moved past him swiftly. A shimmer in the air was all that betrayed his presence as Drakon fired his pistols.

In a flurry of blows he was swiftly disarmed by the invisible figure before he drew a dagger and sliced across the chest, ripping through some invisible mesh of filaments. His opponent swiftly appeared before him, an armoured giant six feet tall who twisted his trapped knife hand and swept out his feet.

Drakon twisted on the ground and caught his arm in a lock, just as he saw Cain draw a bead and fire several rounds from his assault rifle at the man's helmeted head. The Ghost Wolf evaded as best as he could, a glancing hit from the round deflecting off him and penetrating the concrete, a few direct rounds slamming into the helmet and stopped by the sheer strength of the Kevlar.

Drakon slammed his foot into his helmeted head. He found himself airborne, an axe kick slamming him to the ground before the Ghost Wolf picked him up and threw him at Cain. Caught in a tangle of limbs, both of them rose to find pistols to their heads, grey eyes staring at them through cracks in the visor.

"Where is Creed?" came the voice, neutral and cold. Cain replied with a devious smile.

"What's the problem, Johan? No time to talk with an old student? To think you good enough to take on both of us… you were always better than us. Of cou-"

Cain fell to the ground, silenced by a powerful blow to the temple and a knee to the groin. In that instant Drakon reacted, a volley of chain punches overwhelming the Ghost Wolf before he tripped him and slammed a dagger into his hip, tearing through a chink in the armoured suit.

As he dodged backward, the Ghost Wolf rose and threw a cloud of ball bearings at him, exploding in his face and blinding him. He coughed and stumbled, barely stopping the barrage of knives thrown at him before he felt pain radiating through his abdomen as the Ghost Wolf hacked and stabbed at his body core before tearing through his armpit with a dagger.

He fell to the floor, grabbing at the wounds. The Ghost Wolf knelt down and grabbed his hair, dragging it and making him meet his eyes. His voice was unnatural, harsh and compelling, the eyes of a casual killer boring into his soul.

"If you use your hands as pressure bandages you can staunch the bleeding. More than likely you'll survive, if you can get someone to bandage it. I also made a jagged cut through your auxiliary artery. It will clot, but you'll need to seek medical attention soon. On the other hand, I can cut off your hands and watch you bleed to death. _So tell me where Cyrus Creed is!_"

**WWW**

The Twelve Brothers in Silk were the sons of a legendary master known only as Huang. Hailing from South East Asia, they'd been trained since youth by their father and the League, twisted inside and out. Considered almost equal to Lady Shiva in individual ability, they fought as a group, making them even deadlier. Led by the eldest, Huang Chao Ran, also known as 'Rabbit', they were formidable foes.

They surrounded the Ghost Wolf, warily eyeing him. Even staggering and bleeding from gashes in his armour, it was inadvisable to take on a man who'd defeated both Constantine Drakon and David Cain at the same time.

Three moved in at once, their blows parried faster than one's eyes blinked before Rabbit moved in, a jian thrust out in his grip. Ox, the strongest brother, swung a massive zanpatou in an arc. The Ghost Wolf evaded and ran up the hilt of the zanpatou, delivering a bone-snapping kick to Ox, breaking his neck.

Whirling, he lashed out and kicked another of them before sprinting up a corridor and slamming the button, watching the door close. He'd made his way down, deeper into the facility, fighting through intermittent attacks by androids that had cost him both his ninjaken, their nanomachine blades blunted and shattered under the stress.

He clutched his flanks, the gashes opened up. He grinned slightly. Any other human would have died from the sheer amount of pain, but he'd endured worse. He was currently suffering compound fractures on his ribs, several torn muscles and ligaments, a few tendons and damage to his nerves, all of which he could regenerate with time or ask Raven to heal.

It was good knowing you couldn't die until the very end. At the very least, he had an excuse for all his recklessness. After all, he'd been wishing to die for the past two centuries… hell, the past two millennia and more. But the past decade had… complicated things somewhat.

**WWW**

Waiting in the shadows, Lady Shiva pounced on the Ghost Wolf like a tiger on a deer. She slipped to the side and lashed out with a roundhouse, targeting his kidneys. Till now, the Ghost Wolf had been silent, refusing to admit the pain.

As the point of her toe dug in, he gasped as he felt the impact slam into and through him. He was sent flying into the wall, blood pounding in his ears as he tried to stand up. Shiva wasted no time in kicking his neck. He barely blocked with his arm, though the force of the kick savaged it, the crack of bone audible to both as well as the odd angle at which it stood.

Retreating, he deflected her strikes using his unharmed right one, holding her to a stalemate temporarily, scoring several good strikes in turn. In a brief moment she left an opening and Az took it.

**WWW**

As popularly depicted in media, women had a tremendous advantage over men in the simple fact that their reproductive organs were external and not dangling between their legs. This gave any woman a tremendous advantage over a man in a fight should she hit that vital spot.

However, most weren't aware that the opposite was true as well. A woman's groin was dense with nerve endings and if struck caused enormous pain, though nowhere near as vulnerable as a man's. Lady Shiva should have known that while his aim was to reach Anya as quickly as possible, thus causing him to simply bulldoze through her compatriots and her, he was a formally trained fighter who had no problems fighting dirty.

The first sign she felt was an intense pain in her kidneys as before she found herself slammed against the wall, held up above the ground by his right arm. She tried to kick before he lashed out with his knee and winded her. He slammed her to the ground and tightened his grip, making sure she was unconscious before moving on.

Unlike so many other men, her opponent had no problem kicking a woman in the groin.

**WWW**

Aziz scanned the chamber, the capsule in a side chamber attracting his attention. The first visible sign of emotion on his face was a brief smile before he limped to the capsule and looked inside. His face fell as he felt around. He gripped the lock and ripped it off, slamming his shoulder into the space and using leverage to tear open the pod.

Anya fell from inside, covered in blood and mutilated. He knelt down and checked her pulse, noticing the lack of breath. He glanced at her small arms and noticed the slits that ran along her forearms, all the way up to her elbow. Her skin was cold and clammy to the touch, like a corpse.

Her eyes stared in glazed terror outwards, hoping for rescue from someone, anyone. He hunched over the body and cradled it, trying to stop any emotion from escaping. He ground his teeth together before a small sob escaped, the smallest of whimpers. He rocked her silently, staring at the wall.

"She died a painful death. She was too tired to scream once she'd bled out. A real pity. But she was thinking about you till the end. The man who loved her like a daughter. The man who betrayed her and couldn't save her."

Joculare stood in front of him, visible in a formerly hidden door that had opened, Cyrus Creed slightly behind him. "So many identities. So many names. Johan. The Wendigo. The Siberian Ghost. The Ghost Wolf. The Beast of Kosovo. So which one is it? And it seems you're now a Titan and give your name as Aziz. So… _who are you? _And why are you so important to my masters? All I see is a human."

Disturbing chuckles began to make its way from Az's throat as he rose up, his skin glowing with exposed rune markings. His eyes bled smokeless black fire that melted away the helmet. Then he began to laugh as the blast doors to the room closed simultaneously. Cyrus held the orb in his hand, pointing it at him and letting it fire a prismatic beam. The beam hit.

As it did so, the orb freed itself from his grip and floated to Aziz who reached out to it, watching it disappear as it touched his arm, its material essence dissipating and merging with him. He turned his eyes to the two men and smiled. Creed reacted in shock, backing away towards the escape door, only to slam into Aziz who'd appeared right behind him.

And as Cyrus Creed looked at the beast that emerged, he realised what the final component of the spell he'd detected from the orb was. The rage and grief of a parent.

In the next few seconds, as darkness engulfed the room, for the first time in his life Joculare began to scream, the same look that had been on so many of his victim's faces now on his…

**WWW**

Beast Boy woke up with a splitting headache. He found himself in his room, Terra silently waiting for him to wake up. He got up, wondering how it had happened. He was supposed to have accompanied Az to rescue Anya along with Raven and Terra.

"What happened?" he asked, mind puzzling as to exactly why he had a splitting headache and was currently lying in bed.

"You and Raven got knocked out by stun gas. I'm not sure why but it seems Az didn't want you tagging along. I can't imagine why. Oh, he's also not at Nexon Towers like he said."

The last was said with irony. Beast Boy tried to get up but lost his balance, falling back onto the bed. Whatever the stuff he'd used, it was powerful. At that moment Raven walked in, unaffected in the least. But the scowl on her usually serene face told any outsider exactly how she felt. It didn't bode well for any boyfriend who used stun gas on his girlfriend. She had no idea where he was or how to find him. She'd entered his room only to find the entire place clean once more, the numerous weapons back in their racks,

"So-" Garfield began, just as Raven cut him off.

"Don't talk to me, Gar. Just don't." Visibly irritated, Raven tried to think like she thought Aziz thought, trying to puzzle out where he could have gone. She tried to logically think through his actions before abandoning it. The only real reason she could think of for him stopping them from following her was simply to stop them from hindering him.

In fact he was a rather private person and had only begun to open up to them, her especially. She knew his secrets simply because Soren and Uren told her in her dreams. To think that the sons of her current boyfriend were telling her about their father's secrets in her sleep… was quite unprecedented. And Az knew about it and didn't react.

Come to think of it, he was a real nerd slash geek at times, constantly tapping away on his computer during part of his free time or training. She'd seen him investing cash here and there, making calls, typing the odd bit of smut that he put up on the Web or watching anime, which he'd gotten her addicted to.

_His computer…_

Quick as a flash Raven entered his room and turned on the laptop on his bed, before the screen came up, asking for a password. She tried casting a spell on it, to no effect. She frowned and looked at the casing, constructed of anti-magic Nth metal. He thought of everything.

Tapping her finger on the keyboard, Terra came in and looked over her shoulder. She noticed the small photo of Raven and Anya that were prominent in Az's wallet, lying open on his desk.

"Raven… I think I may know the password." Tapping it in, Terra pressed enter. The screen disappeared, to be replaced with Firefox greeting her. "What was the password?" Raven asked curiously. Terra cast a glance at the photo and Raven followed her gaze. Her mouth made a small 'o' before looking at the Hotmail account in front of her.

Listed was an appended document sent by someone called Dumiel. She opened it in a word processor, saw the various facility plans and a drawn map to a Creed Pharmaceutical facility out in the Mojave desert.

Raven suddenly fell to her knees as the crystal on her neck grew warm, emanating a glow that sparked and flared furiously, crackling and hissing as it projected a white beam of light towards Rukt in its sheath. A terrible pain suffused every fibre of her being as she tried and failed to fight the coldness that clawed at her mind.

A thousand screaming voices filled her head, screaming obscenities and yelling perversions in a language that chilled her very soul, before something like a blast door slammed shut as she heard a single familiar voice telling her to run echoed in her mind.

Without thinking Raven rushed to Rukt, rattling and shaking in its scabbard, tied to Shath'hal by a metal chain. She hesitated slightly as she clutched the pommel of the blade. It pulled free from the blade and immediately a foul _presence _filled her mind just as suddenly as it withdrew. She felt the crystal around her neck cool suddenly as the voices withdrew, silence like chill water filling her mindscape.

A sudden burning on her lower back startled her as she jumped up. Terra looked at her with puzzlement as Raven began to shiver. Moving as fast as she could to the bathroom, she stared in the mirror as a sudden change overcame her.

Her hair spontaneously grew longer, falling to her shoulders in waves, the fabric of her uniform turning a shade of midnight blue that verged on purple. Before she could even react, the burning stopped as her uniform morphed into a skirt, slits along the side revealing her legs. It changed again, taking on a warm purple tone with stripes of black, her own cape becoming pure white.

She barely stopped herself from gasping in shock as she ran to her room and flung open her closet. Every single one of her costumes was the same. Morphed beyond recognition, they were identical to the costume she now wore.

"What the… fuck!" she whispered, shocked at the changes in everything around her.

**WWW**

BB and Terra had been left in the tower to attend to other things after Raven had insisted, simply telling them it was a mystical threat they could do nothing about. As it was the Titans had two members of the team beyond contact, or at least contactable by only one person who'd gone missing and another member in critical medical condition.

Raven stood with the assembled authorities staring at the black field that engulfed the facility. The selfsame facility where Aziz had entered. Mists and shadow permeated every inch of it, black figures fluttering through it, echoes of ancient civilisations lost long ago. Their uttered groans were long and keening, disturbing as they were draining.

Their very presence sapped whatever moonlight there was, reducing everything to an inky blackness around them. Doctor Fate stood just beyond, powerful runes of binding and holding straining as they attempted to press back the inky darkness which refused to give an inch. Captain Marvel stood side by side with him, attempting to breach the barrier with his mystical strength.

She'd contacted the Shadow Pact and the Sentinels of Magic for help after receiving a call from the authorities that a corporate facility with links to the government had mysteriously ceased all forms of communication.

What she hadn't expected was for the Phantom Stranger himself to show up, of all places. A legend in the mystical world before even Madame Xanadu, he was a being beyond description, neither of the ancient fair folk, nor fey creature, nor demon. Some said he was the Wandering Jew, cursed to wander the Earth forever for unknown sins. And the last one spoke of an archangel who'd sided neither with heaven nor hell, unable to raise his hand against either brother. The Third Bright Shiner after Michael and Lucifer.

Nobody had ever confirmed them, and probably no one ever would.

The assembled host of magicians stepped back as the Phantom Stranger walked forward and placed his hand upon the barrier. There was an audible thrum as the inky darkness began to recede ever so slightly before a horrendous scream emanated from the barrier, a primordial terror that echoed from the very depths of an immortal soul.

The Phantom Stranger quickly withdrew his hand from it. He turned his shadowy face towards the magical host, in Raven's direction. Walking in her direction, Raven grew increasingly uncomfortable as the whispers grew around her, the Phantom Stranger drawing closer with every step.

That she'd shown up in her new costume was a minor talking point already. The comment by Zatanna that the degree of mystical power she possessed seemed to have increased and been refined was yet another. The fact that a very legend of the mystical world approached her now, in combination with all her changes made her think of a quote Dick had once told her.

"_Coincidence is a small miracle in which God chooses to remain anonymous."_

At that very moment, Raven desperately wanted to give God the middle finger.

**WWW**

"Pass me that crystal, Raven, if you please," he said in a quiet voice that sounded like the wind through the leaves of a tree. She clutched onto the necklace crystal, reluctant to part from it and even more reluctant to explain it.

Reluctantly, she handed it to him. A sudden flare from the crystal as he gripped it caused him to drop it, drawing a yell of alarm from him. Raven swiftly caught it as it fell, holding it close to her chest.

An unspoken exchange occurred between them as he looked at her and back at the barrier, within which the spectral forms swirled in the mist. Nodding, she kept the crystal in the palm of her hand and walked towards the barrier, shivering as the gloom reached out to her.

Pressing her palm against the barrier, she felt the chilling cold, the heat sapped from her body in a flash. She withdrew her hand; saw the frost that engulfed it. Taking the crystal, she pressed it against the barrier and watched as it glowed, a stream of energy streaming from it to mix with the blackness that slowly sunk away, dissipating into the air.

Not a few magicians cast a questioning glance at her before the Phantom Stranger left, announcing that the threat was ended and they were no longer needed. Reluctantly the magicians left in all manner of ways, from portals to flying carpets and even turning into sand till only the Phantom Stranger remained.

He met Raven's eyes and nodded.

"There are few things beyond my understanding, but something within me tells me only this. What awaits you in there is something twisted beyond what you recognise it to be. You will have to make a choice Raven, Jewel of Scathe, daughter of Arella and Azarath. You hold the most powerful weapon against it; something that was denied it for too long. Do not be scared, for whatever lies within that crystal is connected to what lies within. You have powerful forces on your side. You have only the choice to make. Godspeed, child."

With that he slowly sunk back into the shadows of the desert, leaving as he'd arrived.

Gripping her necklace, Raven looked at the ruined door before her, noticing the charred remains of a jetbike among them, the metal corpses of numerous combat droids strewn around the area. There were no human casualties, the security guards having evacuated from their posts. Of that she was thankful.

Drawing in a deep breath, she walked forward into the darkness, the crystal projecting a point of light that she followed into the depths.

**WWW**

Raven stared straight ahead, ignoring the whispering voices all around her, the mockeries of things both dead and living that hunched in the corners. Rotted forms that shouldn't have existed, variable geometries that burned the eyes and defied description with human language twisted in the peripheral areas of her eyes.

Her magic didn't work, brief sparks that sputtered as they died out. Yet the creatures kept away from her.

As she passed they sublimated into the air, their presence gone. At the farthest reaches of her hearing she heard the chittering of things, of claws against steel, the rasping of breaths from creatures that scrambled towards the centre.

As she got closer the visions grew more hellish. Memories that weren't hers, of a field of corpses spreading to the horizon, several layers deep. Of bodies burning in pyres, of alien horizons that were both majestic and vistas of cruelty. Images of endless lives of millions of different species across hundreds of thousands of worlds on dozens of universes and planes paraded through the back of her mind.

They were flashes, the briefest glimpses. The smell of a rotting corpse. The kiss of a lover. An inundation that nearly overwhelmed her at times. But always she walked forward, holding onto the crystal. Then as the crystal grew even warmer, blazing as she neared the source of this phenomenon, it finally slammed into her.

_She stood in a cave of metal, the walls buckling and tearing as they shook. She held two sheathed blades at her side while a man who looked utterly familiar yet strange, who seemed similar to Dick, only older, with eyes of blue, held her hands, trying to drag her away. She looked down in wonder at her abdomen, slightly rounded, a sensation of life within._

_Another child clung to her legs, sobbing in terror. A girl who looked much like Raven had in her childhood. Beside them a being of metal held a door open, roaring for them to enter._ _To run while they had time._

_Then she heard it above the roar of fractured metal, of a voice filled with utter majesty and command and she turned to meet eyes filled with love, terror, despair and battle lust, compounded by agony and courage. A being whose fate was fixed, ready to face the burden and nightmare that was his destiny._

_A being wholly unrecognisable to her, bleeding from a thousand gashes in golden armour, an aura of power and light radiating in a thousand rays of energy. An immortal warrior king, sable blade in hand and a sphere of purple-black energy encircling him._

"_Run, Raven. Just run."_

**WWW**

She came to in a darkened room. She saw two squirming masses of flesh. She approached them and screamed as she backed away and began to vomit, the smell worse than anything she have ever experienced.

Bile rose in her throat and she heaved, the smell of faeces permeating the room, a flood of dark diarrhoea that mixed with bloods. Acidic venom dripped from above, causing the squirming masses to heave as a chorus of mouths screamed.

What was once human had been twisted beyond hope of recovery. Too many mouths screamed in a chorus of agony as too many eyes stared back at them, flicking one way and another, rolling and flexing in cords of exposed flesh and blood that dripped with the blood of things.

Noses and anuses grew together in twisted form, sniffing only bile and bloody diarrhoea as they spewed endlessly from the orifice. Nerve endings twisted and multiplied geometrically and then exponentially twisted and turned in a sea of agony, nerve fibres squirming in a symphony of pain that it experienced, pain greater than an eon of agony.

An Anti-Nirvana of pain.

Then her eyes finally met that of two other forms; human shapes that constantly twisted and reformed only to scream before being ripped apart at the sub-atomic level, only to be reformed and torn apart once more, all of their pain receptors overflowing with the delicious song.

She scrambled backwards on her knees… and entered a zone of silence. A cool balm descended upon her. She looked around and noticed a young girl, face mutilated. She approached before a small cry escaped her mouth.

From the photo carried around in his wallet, she knew it was Anya. Raven bent down and ran her hand over the mutilated face, closing her eyes. Eyes that stared endlessly, locked in terror.

"I couldn't protect her. I couldn't bring her back. All I can do is destroy and murder… kill… slaughter…"

She heard the words come from around her as they descended into a madness of laughter, before dying away. She heard the breathing as her breath became cold and a dark void took her in, a womb of absolute night. Her crystal glowed.

"Aziz. I'm-"

"**THERE IS NO AZIZ**." the voice roared in response before subsiding and continuing in a softer tone.

"There can only be the monster. The one you spoke of was always destined to be a destroyer, yet he wished to be a destroyer who could save, who destroyed to protect, to preserve. He was always fighting his destiny, like a fish jumping and distorting the moon's image on water. You can cause ripples, but the moon remains."

"Fate isn't immutable. Destiny isn't fixed. Destiny is what has occurred, what is past. Who are you?" Raven asked.

"You may call me the Chaos Wolf, the Devourer of All. A persona within Aziz, if you will. The memories of all his past lives. He gave you his true name, didn't he? _Our _true name. He lied to you about his age. He's lived more than 1700 years. Those are the years he could die. But now… he can't die no matter what. His wish for oblivion is null. He is a being who has lived more than fifty thousand years, immortal and invincible."

"Who is Aziz and who is Azaluhaiz? Who is the one responsible for this? Those two over there… they're Cyrus Creed and Joculare, aren't they?" Raven questioned him, shivering in fear as she felt a shadow slink around the edges of her vision.

She felt a hot breath, a tongue across her cheek as she slapped the presence away, trembling at the lethality of it, the sensuality it _oozed_ as her demonic side came forth, revelling in the darkness and chaos around her: the side of her that took pleasure from the agony of others.

"Azaluhaiz is the truest form of being. The Imperial Ulthaj who is destined to face the Ulthaj Nightmare. The Great Devourer. You are simply an accessory to his awakening; a path that needs to be taken. For he has lived many lives and existed beyond eternity and infinity. The Ulthaj is a concept, an idea, an abstraction beyond language. Aziz… dear, quaint little Aziz…" the voice spoke harshly, sarcasm dripping from it.

"I am responsible for this child. I am a part of Aziz that revels and enjoys in the chaotic slaughter. Aziz keeps me locked away, never letting me reveal myself. Aziz is the part of Azaluhaiz, the Ulthaj Lord of All, who cannot reconcile himself to fate like all the other parts of him have. He is the part that rejects his fate, the rule-breaker and fate-destroyer. As for those two broken men, they received my punishment as I saw fit."

"Give him back to me. Give Aziz back to me. He's mine. I-"

"You what? Child, do you actually _love_ that man? That immortal beast? To live on as we have is to leave behind joy, and love, and companionship, because we know it to be transitory, of the moment. We know it will turn to ash. Only those whose lives are brief can imagine that love is eternal. You should embrace that remarkable illusion. It may be the greatest gift your race has ever received. But for him, it is his _curse_. An eternity of loneliness and despair have proven love to be the greatest lie in the human paradigm. Innocence. Truth. Mercy. Regret. These are real enough. Logic…"

"_Give him back to me! _I… he is my bodyguard. He's my team mate. He's my family. He's.. I love him. I love him. I _love_ him. Give him _back!" _she shouted, staring now at the darkness, her eyes turning red as she fought back the tears. She saw the black figure now, the grey eyes that glinted. The eyes that leered at her with hunger. The body that was scarred and bruised by his efforts to protect those he loved. Actions that spoke of love.

Scars that spoke of love…

He stepped into the light then, illuminated for her to see. His armour gashed, his suit bloody, a crystalline darkness that sprouted tendrils served as his armour. _His hatred for the universe, for himself, for his enemies. His shield against the loneliness and despair of immortality. His hatred that caused the stars themselves to fear the Chaos Wolf of the Janthrils. The Human Apocalypse given form._

"_Why do you love him?"_

"I don't know. He's protected me, saved my life. He's noble. He's…"

"Haven't your friends saved your life? Are they not noble? Don't you love them?"

"That's different. They're my family. I don't understand why I love him..."

"Just because one doesn't understand doesn't mean the explanation doesn't exist. So tell me, before I kill you, you weak, worthless girl who dared to enter into my domain. I have five questions. Answer them and perhaps… I will spare your life. Five questions that your _lover _has to answer within himself as well. I don't know the answer, and neither do I care, but constantly he asks himself them and I am the part that tires of them. And if I don't like the answers… his and yours both… I will kill you."

"_Who are you?"_

"I am Raven. Daughter of Arella and Trigon the Terrible. Your friend. Among the women who love you. A friend who'll never abandon you."

She screamed as lightning engulfed her and she clutched at her chest, her heart pounding painfully. She tasted copper in her mouth, her gums bleeding as blood dripped like honeysuckle nectar from her nose. She tried to move but found herself immobilised, stuck to the ground as her limbs became heavy, weighted by invisible chains.

"_Not good enough. What do you want?" _

"I want to save you. I wanted to bring Anya back. I wanted to see you smile. I want you to know that there's hope, no matter what's happened in the past. The past is destiny but this is the present. A present worth living for."

The words flowed from her mouth as she stared at him, hoping, seeking for warmth in the cold grey eyes. The ambiguity that dwelt in the shadows. She would save him… the man she was in love with. Her friend. She saw a glint in his eye as he considered her answer.

"_Why are you here?"_

"To bring you back. To help rescue this girl you loved like a daughter. To punish those responsible."

Raven screamed in agony as she became surrounded in a cage of lightning once more, gripping her shoulders until her fingernails drew blood from them. She looked through a mist in her eyes and saw him approach her, kneeling. She felt her chin lifted up by a hand and she met eyes filled with death and hate.

"_So you came to help me kill them? I doubt it. Do you have anything worth living for?"_

"I… I have my friends. They're my family. I'll live for them. To save them from anything that threatens them. I'll-"

"_Not good enough. All are trite answers to things that will go away and are of no importance. Family. Friends. They'll all betray you in the end. Impermanent. Transient. So why did you come? Where are you going? Answer me with logic, child. Answer me with tangible things, for there are limits. I'm the be all and end all of a universe. I could destroy this galaxy with a thought! I am beyond this realm. So give me an answer that isn't so trite!" _

Raven chuckled at him. "If you're so powerful, why don't you bring her back to life? Why don't you kill me right now? Let me guess… something more powerful than this 'Chaos Wolf' of yours is blocking your full power. You're not the real Aziz I know and love because he would never harm me! He wouldn't harm anyone whom he loved. He's always suffered for others sake. You're just a pathetic-"

Her words became garbled as her throat began to tighten. She stared into his eyes and only saw hatred and desolation within. She clutched at it in vain as she choked.

_Suddenly she knew. She knew! Love. That was what she had that IT didn__'t have. She had Arella's love, and Cyborg's, and Azarath's, and Beast Boy's, and Robin's, and Starfire's and the real Aziz's love. And she had her love for them. But how could she use it? What was she meant to do? _

Reaching out for his face, she ran her hand over it before stroking his cheek, even as she choked. Summoning all the strength that she could, she reached out for him, letting the tendrils surround her as she caught him in a hug and felt her bond with him. She projected it with all her strength, with all her passion and courage towards him.

"_What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of my father? Now that you saw but a small part of what to you is his evil, will you follow the path of immutable fate?"_ a voice rang out. Urenor's voice.

The darkness surrounding them died away in seconds, as the being in her arms shuddered and tried to pull away. But she only tightened her grip, feeling the darkness retreat inwards, sealed behind in a heart that walked a precipice between the abyss and the light, always in the shadow between. A heart so much like her own.

He collapsed to the ground, catatonic. Raven looked and saw Anya, her body restored, her mutilated features regenerated, a small spark entering her mouth as her chest began to rise and fall. She saw Sorentho faintly; a spectral form that waved at her in thanks. They'd always been with her.

But the future held uncertainty. If people found out, they would never understand. Not as she understood him. Robin would have him ejected from the Titans in an instant, if he knew what he'd done to Cyrus Creed and Joculare, torturing them, pursuing his revenge. If he knew the truth of his darkness.

The heroes of the magic world already knew something was afoot with her. She had to make sure they didn't act.

**WWW**

She stared at their mewling forms, their wretchedness pitiful beyond measure. While Aziz had been restored by her, the same could not be said for the two men before her. Cyrus's skin was draped across the wall, salt rubbed into his bloody tissue, while Joculare screamed at the phantoms of his mind, twitching at every small sound.

Men who had suffered and would never recover their sanity. Of that the Chaos Wolf had made sure. And evidence that the pitiful, noble man she loved had a dark side which could cost him his position as a Titan, pursued by every 'noble hero' out there should Robin ever discover the truth. The only man who could truly understand her constant inner struggle, for he struggled himself.

As she considered her options, death seemed the most merciful. Forming a telekinetic blade on either hand, she thrust them into their skulls, killing them instantly. And in that moment, the tattoo that formed on her back, the outline of a black raven, came fully into being.

She did it so that he wouldn't be blamed. He may have tortured them, but she had killed them, and that was the truth. Her act of mercy, motivated by love, concealed with deception and ending in death. The price to protect him.

Her innocence.

**WWW**

"Well Derman, are you happy with the result?" Ahriman asked.

"More or less. Everything proceeds as is hoped. But tell me, Ahriman, I'm after vengeance as well as to prove to the parent who rejected me, Rugal Al-Ilham, that my way is better. What is _your_ motivation?"

"Revenge. Simply revenge." Ahriman the King of Deception smiled, knowing that in time, even his comrade would turn against him. For he was the last Cha'gukal, child of the Great Devourer, the great enemy of the Ulthaj. And everything was proceeding as he hoped.

**WWW**

Anya looked at her father, wondering what was wrong with him. He seemed unusually affectionate the last day, cooking all her favourite foods, buying her new clothes. Something he usually never did. In effect, spoiling her. Pretending that nothing had happened since that man had kidnapped her.

She only remembered vaguely a great agony, floating in some limitless realm for a short period to wake up in the back of a car, her head cradled in the arms of her father's girlfriend. Her father had slept in front, face drawn and looking older than she'd ever seen him while a man called Dumiel drove.

And now they were at the airport with Eko, who was waiting to depart for Melbourne to visit Rahesh along with her. Something was off about the whole affair. Her dad seemed very shaken about everything, unsteady at times.

He knelt down in front of Anya and held her shoulders for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly then opened them, sparks of gold dancing in them. As he spoke, she suddenly felt very drowsy...

**WWW**

Anya waved goodbye to her uncle's friend, some man name Aziz who seemed very fond of her. Growing up with her uncle Eko, she followed him around the world on business. Out of the blue, he'd decided to move to Melbourne and she'd been told she was to study at a boarding school in Geelong. She eagerly looked forward to it.

"Goodbye… _dushenka moya!_" Aziz said to her as he waved. She waved back, trying to puzzle over why the words and the man were so familiar. She turned back to look one final time but he was gone, lost in the crowd.

"Uncle Eko, what does 'dushenka moya' mean?"

Eko briefly glanced at her. So the memory wipe and replacement was a success. For the sake of her safety, she'd beeen exiled by Aziz to Melbourne, her memories replaced by Az temporarily borrowing his power. She had no memory of him at all, simply some echoes in between that would grow vaguer with time, as Az had planned.

"In Russian, it means 'little soul'. It's a term of affection."

Anya didn't understand why her eyes began to tear.

**WWW**

He sat in Raven's room at the foot of her bed, head down and staring at the floor. His eyes counted the number of books on her shelf, turning up to look at the patterns of her ceiling, counting the painted stars. Anything to distract him from his sins, from what he'd done.

He felt Raven rest her back against his and he pushed her, a gentle nudge. He pushed her back. She reached out her hands and clasped his, intertwining her fingers with his. Holding her hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed her fingers. He held them there, letting his breath cool them before something in him broke and the dam holding back his emotions escaped.

Sobs began to wrack his body, Raven feeling the tears against her fingers. She sat by his side and let him lean against her shoulder, their bodies held in a silent communion, her offering him warmth and compassion.

"Raven… when I took her memories to ensure her happiness… did I do something wrong? I don't know why. All I ever wanted was oblivion from existence. I looked forward to the day I would die. Then… then all the people I loved started to follow me, even after I abandoned them and drove them away. Then their happiness began to matter to me. And after a while, I didn't want to die. I don't want to die. I wanted to live, with you and all the others. So why must I die? Why must I remember all my lives; all my sins? Did I do the right thing in the end… sending her away?"

Raven stopped and looked at him. This tormented soul who wished for death but didn't receive it, and now he'd gained happiness and didn't wish to leave it. In her life, she'd learnt one thing - that if happiness came by, it was best to take it and experience its fullness, even for that single moment.

"Aziz Zahedi, there are so many parts of you I don't understand… and I don't want to. But you make me happy. You understand me like no one else. You make me smile with your idiocy and mystery and wit. So let me in. Don't push me away. Let me bear some of your sins… because I'm not afraid to say it any more. I love you. You care about the happiness of others more than your own. And that is enough. And if you remember those sins, if I can help you forget for even a while, I'll do it."

She slowly bent her head and kissed him. And slowly, he responded, deepening it as both fell back onto her bed, their arms entwined, tongues sliding against the other. Raven slowly took off his singlet and her own top, tossing it off to a corner of her room. His skin against her skin, his lips upon her lips… and then he stopped as he pulled back.

"I can't. Not now."

"Why not now?" she spoke softly, staring at his back, tracing her finger across his scars.

"Because… I loved a mortal woman a long time ago. And my darkness killed her. Not now. But later. I promise you. Please. I will make love to you. But… not now."

Raven looped her arms over his shoulders and turned to look in his eyes. She spoke softly as he met his gaze.

"I'm not a mortal girl. I'm a half-breed demon. You made a promise, and you've always kept promises. To Anya, when you promised to make her happy. To your friends to protect them. I trust you. And for me to be with you… it's something I want. But I'll listen. And I'll wait."

He fell back into her embrace, letting his lips write a novel upon her lips as he explored them, her mouth claiming his, allowing her to let him forget…

_From Corvus Corvidae: I don't know if this is worth anything, but I'll write it anyway._

_You're right. We humans are creatures of time, and if we cannot learn to live in time then we cannot live at all. Fish are creatures of water; they must live in it, or not at all._

_But what is time? To me, time seems to be a way of describing things that happen each after the other. There may be some creatures out there that live their lives all at once, or backwards, or in completely non-sequential episodes, but for us it is like a river, flowing swift and sure in one direction._

_I have felt most alive when living in the moment. People who live in the past have regrets, and people who live in the future grow impatient. The only place that one can ever truly live is now, because that's all you'll ever have._

_You have memories of who you were before now, but for all you know that person never existed. We choose to think of ourselves as continuously onward-moving vessels in the flow of time, but for all we know we are recreated from moment to moment, like an animation where each and every frame must be drawn anew._

_The only way to make time bearable is by cutting it up into fragments and taking them each one at a time. Nobody can live an entire day at once, but we are more than able of living for moments. Time and life are intimately related: some people spend their entire lives dead, to all intents and purposes, while others live entire lifetimes in a few seconds._

_Life is stupid; an illogical defiance of the ultimate inevitability, and yet it continues to exist with complete and total disregard for the eternal verities, moment after moment, generation after generation, until finally time itself will come crashing down on top of us._

_We will die, yes. But for now, we live. And when you're dead, you won't be alive anymore, so it won't matter._

_As the Oracle stated: 'Everything that has a beginning, has an end.' But with every end must come a new beginning. The cycle never began, so it will never end._

_We come from the darkness into the light, and we go back__. We are creatures of the darkness, capturing what few moments we can in the light. And we are enjoying the _hell_ out of it._


End file.
